A Language Not Noting | Poem

The language this world speaks,

Telling you a truth about its lying.

Each word spoken in your grace,

Turns a disgrace in your life,

Don’t be afraid of death,

Said the wise mad once.

I wish to listen to those voices,

Which speaks of love and hate,

Last I heard was your voice Deathra,

Asking something in return of pains.

Die me to sleep,

Desires write in dreams,

You are my beloved,

Don’t bring light of gods in me.

The language this world speaks,

Telling you a truth about its lying,

Each word written is of you.

©sjwordsmith

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