What the soul lets free is not often seen by the naked eye. With the ink however, it is on paper clear as sky.
Poisonous flame sneaks into the vein
Without a claim, you stay the same
Until it’s late, you see it rain
Over your head, as a storming wave.
How to deal, how to cope you drain
Every thought from your brain.
With no success, you carry the pain
To the grave, in silent daze.
A wish creeps in all the same
To fight, to win and overcome the harm
However, in vain since, it’s late…too late.