At The Crossroads
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Fragmented signs are scattered
Across this stony wilderness.
A harvest of stars hangs heavy
In the purgatorial night.
The heat is sickly and oppressive.
I feel no cooling winds of fortune.
I see no angels of sweet mercy.
I only hear temptation's whispers.
I can almost taste bitter fruit.
I sense the putrid scent of death.
Nagging spectral forces seem
To await my decision.
Yet I cannot choose a path,
For all roads lead to Golgotha.
Bu şiiri puanla
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