Poetry: Untitled III - Earlier Composition

The serenade of songs so sad,

Sweet lullabies of sorrow,

In rhythm with our steps

As we walk away.

The persistent drum beats

Out of time with hearts

That ache for some reprieve,

For a momentary escape,

From a life lived in the shadow

Of ethereal Fear,

Whose deadly touch destroys

The trust and love we’ve built.