Lost Souls Poem by Aileen Davis
Lost Souls
how dead we feel,
as the dark grows near,
the call of are souls as the hour grows near,
to see ones life become a new,
as the darkness then devourer it soul,
for of this birth one will take,
for the darkness will become its slave,
for the night so calls to the one it had born,
for those children are the one who are forever lost souls.
Friday, January 18, 2008
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4/26/2024 2:11:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
