were it not for the crying - always at midnight - i might sleep soundly. but the grief at the dying day interrupts dreams, denies comfort, evacuates breath, for we do not know if the sun will rise tomorrow.
screaming at low volumes
screaming at low volumes
were it not for the crying - always at midnight - i might sleep soundly. but the grief at the dying day interrupts dreams, denies comfort, evacuates breath, for we do not know if the sun will rise tomorrow.