Jerome by Anastasia Forfotă - HTML preview

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In Forlorn Wells

The crude cries come

from deep throats, lungs

have foretold hums

of chasm songs, yet...

They part in pain,

the weeps of rain

long have caressed

shallow parades

stripped nude of shame,

just God remains

above brimmed wells

to soothe their strains.

Deserted here,

said 'safe and sound',

in lost lives bared

we have been found.

Oh God, hear us!

Lean down your ear,

we've been abused

- there's no one near...