Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.37
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
## 1.
A morning cloaked in wile and woe arrives,
It breathes upon my land and leaves no light,
This realm now bound in frost's cold curse,
Where hearts are held in icy night.

## 2.
The spirits of the blameless weep,
Their voiceless cries cut through the air,
For sins they never chose to bear—
Their names erased beyond repair.

## 3.
With honeyed kiss and lullaby,
The traitor dawn shuts down our eyes,
Where hope is strangled soft and sly,
And broken vows beneath us lie.

## 4.
The sun, a silent witness, spies
The dawn's betrayal through the skies,
But feigns its sleep and turns away—
A coward in the light of day.

## 5.
No rustle of the autumn leaves,
No summer warmth that might relieve,
The garden walls stand cold and bare—
No mercy left to heal despair.
## 6.
Rivers once bold now whisper low,
Their silver tongues grown mute with fear,
While ravens feast on what they know—
The death that flows through waters clear.

## 7.
The dawn devours our silent screams,
It murders night's forbidden dreams,
And drowns tomorrow's golden gleam—
A thief of time's eternal stream.

## 8.
They steal the fire I've kept within,
And brand upon my bleeding heart
The name of every fallen kin—
A wound that tears my soul apart.

## 9.
The dawn—like some mourning queen—
Adorns herself in veils of grey,
Kneels upon my homeland's grave,
To weep for what was swept away.

## 10.
Then breaks the earth, her children rise
With hollow gaze from soil's deep night—
The reckoning begins at last,
A resurrection from this blight.
## 11.
O Saqi! Pour from wine-dark depths,
The draught of ancient mothers' tears,
To drown this nation's burning grief,
The burden of forgotten years.

## 12.
O minstrel! Raise your music high,
Let us dance upon the burning ground,
From ashes new, the phoenix soars
With wings of fire, freedom-bound.

## 13.
Each night I bear death's whispered song,
Its hollow tune beats in my chest—
Yet still I wake to right the wrong,
Though weary, wounded, dispossessed.

## 14.
And though my bones may turn to dust,
My spirit soars beyond the crown—
The dawn may break, but I endure,
Till justice lights each waiting town.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required