Chronicle of a Divinity

Upon a chilled summer’s night’s breeze, secrets whisper
Betrayal sips from a tainted glass
On its knees salvation bleeds
Direction holds no bounds
In midst the hearth flames simmer to blacken rumble
Yellow streaked panes rattle in their frames
Windows give way to pictures of sorrow and despair
For in man’s hour of shame comes the rain of a thousand crimes
So begins the witch hunt
Guilty until proven innocent is their phrase
It is spoken with much conviction

Reviews

[Demi Rose]

magic is here in ur well penned words. it is sad that no 1 else can see what a true master u are with words.