My petals are already drying out, br They’re not white anymore, br But a shade of gray! br br I am walking on a path of poetry petals, br Why is my poetry tainted with br Innocent blood, br Dripping on my path? br br The wind stirs up those petals, br And they run, they fly, br But then they fall again... br br I am walking on a path of poetry petals, br Why is my poetry tainted with br Your kisses, br Caressing each petal of mine? br br Rain starts, all the poetry br Is washed off those petals, br Massacre of raindrops! br br I am walking on a dirty path of solitude, br Of ignorance, of profane light... br Eternity was washed away, br Beauty was damaged... br br Poetry is always doomed, br Even if I’d write with my own blood, br On steel petals, br br The raindrops would still wash br My poetry away, br It has no strength within, br No eternity within! br br ©Elya Thorn.