The Poet Of Yen. Poem by Ebi Robert

It is the rearmost yowl of the night-wisp,
and i was bloomed on a wing.
That which keat sought for.

I have one brazen so much,
and the other wailing at my laze teeth.
Like am betrayed by myself,
and so arduous to an end,
i was brightened by a friend.

A gnostic habitual strength.

I have browsed through fear and
the lamentor ''JANUM''.
I've proclaimed and made praise,
concerning your age and modest days.

I have you to be blamed.
still in a blaze.
I can donate a blade.
We poets are just too late.