Intramural the tenebrous of this early morn'
I awaketh to the sense, of the animus passing on through;
Arising, with the taste of the red iron crimson on mine tongue
Hoping today to be better, whilst I feeleth the life of moribund.

I canst perceive the ghostly eye's upon me, piercing the hindrance, knowing one day I shalt be them, though in remembrance; I shalt not be lost, mine life force won't be
Left behind here, I'll be smiling, happy, none more fear's.

As I'll regain mine wings again, unlike these one's whom peep,
From whence in mine past life, I shalt liveth, not being asleep;
As the grave shalt not be mine end, I shalt cut these wordly ropes,
Riding past the ghostly abyss, being held, by a queen, godliness.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry