The Sun Stabs The Back | Poem

Mornings always take breathes,

Ask the last will to survive,

The sun stabs in the back,

Sickness comes crawling again,

Deathra, who I think of to keep,

You blessed me with touch of death.

Eyes see the Sterling Queen gazes,

Heart longs the death which cheated,

Liebe talks of love I hide from her,

Deathra sits on throne and drinks wine,

What suffering I am blessed with,

Don’t look for answers anymore,

You become the darkness,

I embrace the light darkening.

Let them wait, mistress,

That night will come,

Don’t cry on nights,

Mornings always brings hope.

©Suraj Jangid


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