Adrian Robinson Poet Rhyme

The Bosom of Darkness

My journey is beyond the sun, 
there my bleeding soul will be                                             
console in the bosoms of 
darkness.
My mood suffocated from the
wake of dawn until dust, 
because           
my oxygen comes from within 
the
depths of the glorious night.
The thirst of my tongue can 
only 
be quench by the tears of the 
sun, or by the glowing blood 
of 
the moonlight.

For the manifestation of my 
sins 
I hope not to feel contrite.
I rather my bitter blood ooze 
from my tender flesh, than to 
give refuge to 
tears in my sight.
I further submerge deeper in 
agony but 
I'll not cry. 
I rather slit my wrist and bleed 
my 
sadness until I feel delight.

Only souls of the gutter, 
souls of the slum, 
souls of oppression,
and souls of hardship
speaks and Comprehend the 
language
of my nocturnal tongue.

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