A ROOM TO-LET BY PRINCE JOE

A ROOM TO-LET

I have seen the lofty swing of sun,

From a city of sorrowful history,

With tears like humble parrot,

Of garboiled which garbled for sin.

For I have casted my sinful doubt,

Beneath the episodes of flowing wellspring,

With a tattered clothes of agony of pain,

So shall I sing along with my tears in fear.

I now dreamt of days like prodigal son,

For boys who went and never returned,

From the psalm and sermon of a stamerer,

That clad two naked seeds for water.

Pain is just to make a history,

From the emancipation of dreadful dream,

Exchanging brutality of broken pebbles,

Down to the other side of the room.

This is where we eat rusten foods,

With poisonous milk of prey,

That fetched flustered flowing,

From sparkling at darkness's dawn.

For I have casted my vote on obdurate mountains,

Where my deeds shall submit,

To the rooted root from decades,

To tell A ROOM TO-LET is a story of speechless-orphan.

☆2017☆

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