Poezja

Sitting on a white
rose, the miniature god
writes the lines of life.

Inside animal implodes.
The dark blue blood has a
weird relationship
with broken limbs.

Dismembered,
I don't want to die again.
The bright Ariel claims
for the rebirth.

Was there a promise
to repair the flesh torn
out from the bones
of faith?

It is too much dark
here, I don't see your face.