The Death


The parlor of my home

Once echoed life;

Now dreary silence

Becomes its ornament.

The bustling and bursting forth

Now becomes retraction,

The free spirit of life

Now dons the reaper’s garbs.


Heavens weep;

The Earth, wet with angel’s tears,

Lays lonely, depraved of sunlight,

As the roof of the world -

The clouds high above -

Enclose it like a tomb.

  • Author: Franko (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 7th, 2023 09:02
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 8

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