Tuesday, September 04, 2007


small children
look up to the stars
within that onyx sky
sleep and await the day

burning clouds run ‘cross the sky
the children wake and smile
are not children anymore
skeletons under the scorching sun

death walks across the floated fields
bathing in the friendly yellow rays

dead childred leave their bones
an army of those angel wings

fly with death and guide him well
the warming sun’s got life to sell

death leaves the souls
melts with the sun
in onyx nights the children live
and now the killer lives alone

Posted by Gedankenanschläge at 22:50 Comments Off on winged