Resurrection
Her world is all that I breathe in,
lone goddess, life of this heathen,
exhumed from the dirt of my past,
washed in the blood her love has cast,
fate is what our hearts are wreathed in.
I wrote this poem in the form of a Quintilla.
Her world is all that I breathe in,
lone goddess, life of this heathen,
exhumed from the dirt of my past,
washed in the blood her love has cast,
fate is what our hearts are wreathed in.
I wrote this poem in the form of a Quintilla.