Jerome by Anastasia Forfotă - HTML preview
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In Forlorn Wells
The crude cries come
from deep throats, lungs
have foretold hums
of chasm songs, yet...
They part in pain,
the weeps of rain
long have caressed
shallow parades
stripped nude of shame,
just God remains
above brimmed wells
to soothe their strains.
Deserted here,
said 'safe and sound',
in lost lives bared
we have been found.
Oh God, hear us!
Lean down your ear,
we've been abused
- there's no one near...