Crimson

The crimson sky beckets thee to her side. Thy sorrows beckon thee into her fiery grip. Thou dost not understand thine call into the unknown. As the sun sets her golden ray, thou hast served her to thee. Thou betrayal dost not harm me, nor dost thine green.
Can thou hear my ragged cry, or are thou too arrogant in thine ways to see thy truth before thine eyes? Thou hast no line of truth, for thine orbs doubt my words. She beckons me to her side, but the light never reaches my core. The internal sorrow hast no name for its game, yet solitude calls my name. Dost thou know thine name, or dost thou have no name?
Her crimson ray hast not opened my eyes, nor dost it makeith me whole. Dost thou not hear thine name? Thou hath no fury when thou awoke to thine name.

Reviews

[Ezekiel Silver]

I like this poem! It has a really interesting style of words in it. Nice job!!!