Dead

sylviasearcher

 

Do you tire of my prose?
And from the despair from which it arose

 

Are you bored of my endlessness?
And the black of my dying breath

 

Come, let us end it!
You and I
This night
In a bath full of my red

 

Dead

 

Does it complicate you, my verse?
And the foreign coin of my purse

 

Are you distracted amidst the hum drum?
And working out whether to hide or run

 

Come, let us extinguish
You and I
This night
In my world burned to dust

 

Dead

 

Do they drain you, my words full of dread?
Or do you wonder of this mess I release from my head

 

Are you a voyeur as I chant and entrance?
Or do you desire in my rhythm to dance


Come, let us celebrate
You and I
This night
In my ceremony of glorified


Dead

  • Author: sylviasearcher (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 31st, 2019 18:15
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 24
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Suresh

    Neither, your prose, your verse or your words to be dreaded, when expressed so eloquently. And when it comes to death, it should be naturally welcomed, the sooner the better.



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