Upon every tears

That flew from Medea



I hear them whisper

I hear them call out

where no gods or any goddess

from their voice

screams of shout

gurgle in the deep of their misery.

Help was not there,

Help was nowhere 

Shunned from their light of their lives, 

Soul tattered into peices, 

but salvation was their blessing.

I hear them whisper in my ear saying,

Be careful what you wish for

Be careful what you speak of

Be careful how to love

I hear them

and obey

as I keep my eyes from a city far away

Though i speak in riddles of old

such things to be told,

Spake the word of unknown Oracle

as i look for myself from the past relics into my modern view

of what is new and not of old.


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