A boquet of roses are pressed behind my back
For you, I have gathered what many lack
A heart of stone, engraved lies your name
A love so boundless, I cannot contain
Eyes that can see what many cannot
A finder of treasures this old world forgot
Eyes that have spotted, amongst this sorrow
An angel, a saint whose wings angel borrow...
Someone plase tell me how i should finish it...i feel like its not complete.
Last edited by Moose; Sep 28, 2011 at 10:21 AM.
Death is as generation is, a composition of like elements, and a decompostion into the same.
Hmmm... I don't know whether you will like this or not, but i'l give it a try.
Eyes that have spotted, amongst this sorrow
An angel, a saint whose wings angel borrow
A myriad of colours, hidden in depths
secret and silent, forever to be kept.
I don't really like the last line but if it helped let me know.
Moose (Sep 28, 2011)
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