the smell of dying breath
and distant cure
the sound of pleading prayers
and hopeful muses
the future is so far away
the present is ruined–
no excuses
a number of eyes
looking at your way
whispering the same mantra
over and over again
'please save them
from death
taking over,
please let them live
a little longer.'
in this place
the pungent smell
of toxic breath
and rusty blood
but oh,
we are all the same–
praying life would be
a little kinder.
for in this toxic place
we met,
with same goals
and same whispers–
'to live a little longer.'
BINABASA MO ANG
Snowdrops of Poetry
Poetry"maybe later, or much more later, the moon will finally give you the right to be with them once more, just like before." - The Stars are Winking at You Tonight this is my poetry.
