Settled is the dust of my enslavement,
Pathogens scale these walls,
Taciturn is my Heaven
In unanswered calls.
Finite is my rested thumb
Laid across my sullied blade,
Hearken unto thee as graceful
As Death entering upon glissade.
What is life if not for the Living?
Although in a stagnant state;
The price of breath is dreaming awake,
While with fluctuating heart rate.
-Tirzah Marie
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Author:
Tirzah Marie (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 27th, 2017 19:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments1
Intriguing poem....
*bows*
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