The waves crash and burn, throwing its anger and pain at the world all to prove that there is no life after life had vanquished from the depths of hell...
when you see a sudden bird fly over you and become a demon of the sky,
when all you love is beginning to die
you must contain the pain concealing your jugular vein ready to slash at the slight movement of your hand
and there you are. Dead.
|
Email this Poetry
|
Add to reading list






