Memories is lost of self design,
At natures cost of the crime.
If yet be told whom rings the bell.
The dead will walk in hell.
If not as sure as a wise true night,
Along the silver edge to fight.
Then betrayal lay upon the sands,
Of time holding strong in both my hands.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 7th, 2026 10:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Demar Desu - 德马尔·德苏
Offline)
Comments3
Nicely done.
what does this mean?
Memories and recollections well done
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