Library
Inutile
Inutile
1 min
381
It's too rough to wake
More to crawl,
When the terror is tugged
Folly unfolds;
Dark haze night
With leaden sky Room of dust
Craving for rust.
What do I yearn?
End or truce
Let it ebb
Over the silhouette groves.
Despair of light
Flushing these eyes;
The sun has fled
Below the rill of naught.
