Poem
1:
Upon a night so poorly kept;
A moon flew while the rest wept
The voice in all its hate ate mates
There's one so small of the scarred fates
On bed of dead, the fear lusts tears
At nigh of night, the tear leaves fears
Across the Chasm of those that chant
Did all that could to avoid the rant
And Every so, the place did wave
It sings the songs of old, death cave
Story
I was in the car driving from a place to another place; the music was on and I was existing in the peace in the space; then a song came on and I was flying in the clouds with the loves that have died. And as we flew together, the peace became distress and the driving became the tomb. And as I drove and flew, thoughts of death came, flooding me, and I became alone in that moment and I flew with death.
A ring from my phone brought me down from the sky and I began talking to love that live; death was replaced with shared sorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Reality of me that was and is
RandomAnthology of poetry and stories with themes ranging from sorrow to melancholy thoughts.
