Even the strong seek help.
Even the weak scream out.
Even the scars still bleed.
Even the sun grows cold.
Even the wind sighs now and again.
Even the trees tremble from within.
Even the mountains laugh aloud.
Even the seas rage against the stars.
Even the deaf hear life.
Even the mute sing lullabies.
Even the immobile skip.
Even the scared ones find courage.
Even Death dies.
Even Life is born.
Even victories are defeated.
Even defeats are victories.
Even the truth hurts too much to bear.
Even the lies speak comfort too subtle to fear.
Even the dawn gives way to day.
Even dusk gives way to midnight.
Even the will to live fades away at times.
Even the desire to die lifts from our shoulders.
Even the fresh blood dries.
Even the tears cease externally.
Even the fighters rest.
Even the observers fight.
Even the moon burns with ice.
Even the stars blaze with death.
Even if it all means nothing...
It even means we mean something.
YOU ARE READING
Ripples in an Obsidian Sky
PoetryThese are many of the poems that get stuck in my head randomly, almost like a song or beat poetry in a way. I must warn you, most of them can be rather dark or sad. But I find solace in writing them. Anyway, maybe they can help you get some peace t...
