"The Girl" Poetry II

This little girl inside me,

And without thorn the rose,

So fair and sweet,

Of spring the fairest flower,

Dances with the hours and graces,

Coloured like the dawn,

We maybe are strangers,

With fame and not with fire,

She was lookin' for a soul to steal,

And he was in a bind,

And lose his own soul?

Its trial, its trouble, its sorrow,

Of a day without a tomorrow,

Exiles from delight,

To liberate us into life.

Is darkness of the night?

Is the moonlight,

Were we dance with her light.

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"The Fly" Poetry I

In no man's land,

Where the spirit was born,

The fittest place where man can die,

Destroys, remakes, for His own pleasure,

But that we still should cry,

She passed through the darkness gate,

Through the roses,

I see your falling tears,

As in her shadow of death,

Under an unknown sky

On the other side,

We'll be able to fly...

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