Scourge
And the scourge is misting
Swaddles snow babble
And the ice's insisting
On blue skimble-skamble
Melt away my tears
With a drip-drop feeling
Jingle-jangle peals
I hear a muffled trilling
Conquered by a heartsore
Within a rusted evening
Bullets guess I lost more
Than just a wicked screaming
On the snow creeping
Who's like an eyeless starwort?
What's cached in his weeping?
What a trace in his word?
Writer/s: Art Project Shepot
