I visit my retreat.
Its bittersweet, cold, dark and silent.
I Presume i view it as my perseption of death.
The way it calls my name.
So relaxing its godlike.
It has a way of lull.
Silence is music to my ears.
The cold has my body numb.
The dark is putting me to my final rest.
This is the way i want to pass.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoezjaHey, this Is a collection of poetry I've been writing since 2010. I promise it's better toward the end, being that's my more recent stuff. So feel welcome to skip forward, read it backwards or whatever you'd like:)
