3rd Centurion Boy

Two worlds clash,

Unravelling one’s wine, another’s purse.

Two worlds clash and it seems evermore a curse,

Birds chittering,

Immense sound and chaos havoc,

Buildings to the ground and a story is told.

 

A man walking around,

Lost and deprived of sociality.

His heart beats and cheats,

His breath taken away, as he meets,

What cannot be described as beauty?

It seems to be above that, maybe.

The man stops, he looks and glares,

Like fireworks colours and all

He jumps up, his heart flares.

In his hand and being given to this immortal,

His heart, purely destroyed

By the passed,

Still beating, more alive than ever,

She holds my heart and listens to the pain,

She listens,

Listening, to this imaginary part

Faint beat, but constant,

I sip on the wine and share it with you,

Now our hearts pay the dime!