Poem originally written by Luka Jijieshvili on May 25, 2017.
Scroll down to see license options.
Me drowns, downs, drowns, and drowns,
In the depths of the opaque ocean when it never shone,
And as Me regards the surface of its somber ground,
Me awaits your hand to touch it and to tear your frowns.
And the air bubbles ride, ride, ride, and ride,
With my shrilling screams and never-ending cries,
Up to the haven where you rest with that dame of yours,
From the hell, where Me struggles with his torturous fall.
My dying hopes sing, sing, sing, and sing,
With the high notes of melancholy but of happy dreams,
And you tell Me, darling, if the art so differs from the pain,
How come the Violins and Violence rhyme, for Christ’s sake?
In the end Me writes, writes, writes, and writes,
And each of my word is a…
View original post 30 more words