Tuesday, 13 October 2009
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Great Gatsby
By F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Disintegrating with the Morning RainGoodbye my cruel, doomed and hateful loveI salute your power with the hand of fateDraw your gun and shoot at blind
Like Cupid with his blood-soaked arrows
Even Gods crumble before your might and wrathful glory
As if they are made of paper that disintegrates with the demand of grace
In the benumbing rain of lies and promise
Oh, how much I’ll miss the tragic words that you whisper in my ear
The lullaby of wistful, hopeless dreams I used to hear
Before I slowly dive into silk and silver
And forget about the world beyond the little cot we used to share.
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