My Road's Crippled Landscape

Snow flakes in slew are on morning strolls

The thickets smell of fledging owls

And Howls play harp on the gust of wind

A mighty roar of silence jingle and sing

Upon the roads i travelled the most

The pitter pattering clouds

Raise no rain but hammering hails.

My aisles of pain have steeled the scarlet sun

The spring around my night's globe has went passed

The lakes are dried, their curtains are burnt

As the crippled landscape of my roads

Promised me to paint the story of my soul

My merciless wounds infected it and poisoned it

Now a mirror i am turned,

Its more like me i can sense;

Nor it can die

Neither it can survive