Picture within you an ocean of ice:
waves frozen in that final moment,
wrecks of the pitiful damned
crushed, splintered in its pale blue grip.
In that hellish wasteland
time is without meaning
inconsequential and without a voice.
However, it is that finality,
that cruel reality,
that I see within you
in your seething, silent look.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: June 24th, 2025 07:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
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