Most mornings, I wake
To the voices I loathe,
Knowing there’s a sin
Committed going close to you.
We’re doomed; craving each other,
You don’t speak words your heart
Sings rhyming a death’s tone,
Clutching necks once alive recalls.
Deathra, hopeless lurks inside my temple,
Claiming the desires I kept hidden,
Today or tomorrow, I may kiss last,
The abominations or the sanctuaries,
Which brings a single ray of sun.
Don’t say, we’ve not loved enough.