Long worn, the veil of death
rots within the hollow hole;
to the rhythm of my heart,
licks away my sullen soul.
Still was a dear friend of mine,
closer to me than the stars above;
wished my life brimmed with colours,
filled with bliss, filled with love.
Oh, now I see the holy light
came to receive me;
yet I wonder the work of Charon,
always working, never free.
But who am I to pity him?
I once sang the ferryman’s hymn.
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Author:
Raunak Sarkar (
Offline) - Published: May 17th, 2026 01:16
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
A lovely dark write. (I am not sure if you meant stairs or stars ) nicely written and a fave
thank you for noticing my unseen mistake, I have corrected it
You are most welcome I am never sure but that it was intended but am always grateful when people point out my mistakes (which are not few)
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