Weaving
What a wonderful web the lovers they weave,
They build and tear down with an axe they cleave,
Wondering and walking through the web that was wove,
Falling prey to the webbed ones trap and swallowed hole.
Wallowing in sorrow the wondered one cries,
As the world that was webbed slowly dies.
Wilting in the web of the loved ones den,
While the love that has wilted abruptly ends.
Watering the open wound will not wash it clean,
In the webbed world we died in the pitiful dream.
So steer clear of the web and the love it shares,
Or die the slow death with a world of no cares.
|
|
|
