Demurrer of Love

A Poem by Harubatz

Torn apart, yet weaving itself again
In a shape of form we would feel pain,
It reaches you who are a demurrer of love
For thou seek'est temptation of Eve

Shall we never forget the thorns of young eyes,
That lie in the stained blocks of grim days;
Thus shall we realize the burdened youth
That hopes to flourish in delightful path

What you must seek and strive to seek,
Certainly and truthfully be abound to the sick,
Who desires nothing but a picture of thee,
For that'd be the wish that'd never fulfill thee.

Not knowing how, or the truth,
We thus embark on the path,
In which lies the fragments of memories,
In which lies the sentiments of days,

Wherefore have we strayed away,
In the misery of being blown away,
Must we not wonder, but we shall
For it hurts not to lie in a shell

Thus shall it haunt thee and I who demur,
And shall we seek the Phantoms of our dear,
In this labyrinthine path of imperceptible traces,
That deny not the shattered pieces of paradises.