Here is the next installment of my ongoing poem ‘Mye: The World Elsewhere’. We’ve come up to the point where we are about to switch to another character, and as you can see I have tried to make this as easy as possible to follow with the main focus’ name being set in asterisks.
I hope you enjoy this little piece, and remember that all of them are collected together on their own separate page found on my blog. See you there.
A lonely cry comes withered,
From a mouth I thought not my own,
A cry I would liken to some pained hound,
Had I known they could hold such a sound.
Ay, ay! Tear me from this place,
Pinch and shock me till I sigh deep,
“I am awake, at last I am awake”,
For I wish, this place, I could forsake.
Songs written here are weak,
Bards sing in rhythms left unused,
What I do and see when here holds no place,
And every smile hides a dying face.
*The Playful Bard*