IRC-Galleria

I reach out my hand
Toward the northern sun
Out of this cursed land
If I could I would run

But my feet are in deep
In the swampy ground
It thus prevents my sleep
By making a cold sound

I know they are broken
I can feel them gone
Swamp took it´s token
I hope it´s now done

So I a need a grasp
To my wounded arm
Pull me without a gasp
Make my world warm

My hand sliced in half
Blood blinding my eyes
Now as blind as deaf
All hope again dies.

----

I miss you.