The Herald

behold, beware,
here comes the herald of despair
striding in the flesh
for the sun to look upon

look out, take care
he runs his fingers through your hair
is clad in all hopes ash
no sun is left after he’s gone

he lifts your chin and tugs your skin
and smiles at you with weary eyes
he grasps your hand, he’s in the end
fair warning just, not the demise

behold, beware,
here comes the herald of despair

Comments are closed.