when you go to that lane
where the houses are graves
their rooms only pain
shadows' dark waves
where winds pause morose
light is barred
closed doors and windows
keep sunshine debarred
where walls are deadened
reeking of moss
the way is a dead end
weighed with cross
you would meet a hollow face
covered in hood
who would ask *all these days
you did what good.*
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
when you go to that lane
where the houses are graves
their rooms only pain
shadows' dark waves
where winds pause morose
light is barred
closed doors and windows
keep sunshine debarred
where walls are deadened
reeking of moss
the way is a dead end
weighed with cross
you would meet a hollow face
covered in hood
who would ask *all these days
you did what good.*
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