I walk lonely as a cloud
that sleeps on vales and rest on hills
when thought become loud and loneliness kills.
where is thy love?
Why is thy heart with emptiness filled?
Wishing through the cold night
broken & shelter, with nothing to heal.
Where is thy love?
Where is the innocuous soul of thee?
A poet turned from gay
thrown into turmoil and colossal self destruction
but kept moving, for anyway is a way..
He found the Angels singing songs of doom.
hell was nothing compare to his dark little room...