when I don't think enough
the call of death sings
whispering me in sweet symphonies
and pulling me in with murmurs
how the peace calls to me
the lull of death sings me
to a sleep in a moment
I think too much
for this death to consume me
but when I am quell
the racing thoughts I might
slip into a red stream of
a metaphorical death
YOU ARE READING
digital dance - poetry
Poetryyoure not alone in the way you scream at a god who hears but does not understand or care to learn
