Life is a grave we dig with trembling hands,
Each step a shovelful of brittle sands.
We stumble blind, toward what, we never know,
The path is paved with bones beneath the snow.
A beating heart, a cage of flesh and bone,
Bound to the dust, we live but die alone.
Each breath we take is borrowed from the end,
A thread pulled tight, too frayed to ever mend.
We chase the light, but shadows claim our skin,
No matter where we start, we never win.
For every birth, a death waits in the wings,
And every joy is caged by iron strings.
We fight for purpose, clawing through the rot,
But meaning's just a ghost we never caught.
The love we cling to fades, decayed by time,
The hands we held grow cold, the bells don't chime.
We build our kingdoms, empires of the mind,
But every tower crumbles, undermined.
The earth will swallow all we've tried to save,
And we return to dust, no one left brave.
The sun we praise will burn our bones to ash,
The stars above indifferent to our clash.
For in the end, we crawl into the ground,
And only silence answers to the sound.
Life is a dream that turns to nightmare fast,
A fleeting flicker, lost before it lasts.
We smile, we laugh, we pretend to be free-
But life is death, and death is all we see.
YOU ARE READING
When Silence Wept
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, the veil is torn away, revealing the undercurrents of darkness that run through the human experience. These poems are raw and relentless, exploring the spaces where light fails to reach, and the truths we fear most come...
