Count me to the rivers that cry in the moon lit nights,
That drowns in the solace of midnights terror.

Crave like the ravens that are driven by hunger,
Seek to take away my essentials that enables me to live.

Cry hunger to my wounded soul,
That is cursed by the terrors of thorny clouds.

Capture my thoughts by scornful bushes,
Drenched in anger, in rage.

Cast the spell of love,
To defeat me.

So that I may die,
In evanesce.

© Robyn G Neymour