Death must be proud,
Though some have called him Irresistible.
The one that never makes a sound.
But people cries to.
Death must be proud,
When clean bodies are put to the ground.
With white clothes the body enshroud,
Man is buried three meters away from the ground.
Death should be proud,
Taking all the souls as vowed.
Under its invisible garment, probably white or black.
Till we all turn our backs.
Till his memories are long forgotten.
Death comes again to draw us aback.
Death is fear, no man would lack.
YOU ARE READING
The Light In Me
PoetryThe first page of a new anthology I hear the sound of my favorite words Like art, music and photography. I see the footprints of my past and thoughts. Feeling of excitement from my fingertips The words of understanding from my bare lips. I can'...
