Custom User Avatar
More by this author
It was the day when the raven's call
Strummed awake the morn
And the innocent, unjustly,
Was hung and crowned with thorn;
And even on a dying breath
Such truth could not be said,
So beneath the wings of Death,
Was held in one's heart instead.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback