For Whom The Sky Weeps

You stop at the brink, 
to flirt with the rim of 
the lake. 

Reading yourself in water 
you wanted to defang 
the life. 

The blood berries expose 
the guilt of the moon. 
Would you sit at the bottom 

of the bay and become 
a doer? The white cobra waits 
till you are paralyzed. 

The lovers go crazy 
baiting a god, to unleash 
the trapped tempter. 

A conflict between a 
prey and the bottle. You 
do not want to live in luxury.