My Death Is Unseen

Omnimax47

Dark and cloudy.

The place where I lay.

A mother weeps.

For her taken child.

 

Watching this crumbling world.

Waiting for those last words.

Of humble grievance,

to which I know.

 

With a knife in my chest,

and a gun to my left.

I lie for my final descent.

In my grave I lay.

 

Hidden below,

from the world above.

To say a thing, I wish I’d said,

My Death is Unseen.

 

  • Author: Alfred Lord Tennyson (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 26th, 2018 06:56
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 27
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Comments1

  • sylviasearcher

    Very dark piece. I hope it is metaphorical. I know the feeling of dying unseen each day.



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