Marko saaresto

Different lights

Marko saaresto
Touch me now
Let me feel the bitter chill of your hands
Understand the holocaust in a caress
In your eyes a branding iron glare alights
Seven under nine in the same game of chess

And you must turn it around
Turn it around until you see the veil of meaning in a different light

Separate the red from green,
Don't let it melt into grey
Deny me the alternative of choice
Shatter me when I come in for shelter from the cold
Till your name is spoken in a broken voice

And you must turn it around
Turn it around until you see
And you must turn it around

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