Thou est speak
Separately and in speech
Your life shys from the light
Where is your violent life
In purple bruises or redness of your cheeks
Just like a child afraid of the dark
Turns into the bard of barren times
Laconic about his problems
And inclement about his cumulus
The turbulent seas finally shine on this sunset line
Burgeoning bright oars from the stygian life
The tridents push you into the frescoes of reconnaissance
As you lose control of your helm
Your poem comes to a pensive finish
Making someone's poetry better and brighter ad
Cantankerous about fuliginous lines and the velleity towards writing disappears
Some lines for your frostbitten ears
That feel like the heat of icy burn of some desolate polar boreal search