give me, hands
that cleave to find
like boughs of a
dead trunk
a face, from years forgotten
and cry
that I no more
belong to me
and when to look
into my abyss
you freeze of death
You are, like a black star
mirror of my soul
that cleave to find
like boughs of a
dead trunk
a face, from years forgotten
and cry
that I no more
belong to me
and when to look
into my abyss
you freeze of death
You are, like a black star
mirror of my soul