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Poetry

Desperate & Unfinished Killers | Poem

There are,

Desperate feelings on rising,

Compare them with a dying person,

I live on intense plans and plains,

Unknown to this world’s worth.

I wouldn’t ask you, Deathra,

To find another cure for me.

There is none in hope’s mind,

I’ve to bear the feelings for a time,

When these go down to express,

Desperate needs for hatred,

Desperate desires for love,

Desperate wants for someone,

Desperate acts for death.

Exactly, on the five thousand day,

My heart may stop,

My mind may rest,

My flesh would rot,

And, you would say what you do inside,

Painfully desperate and unfinished killers,

We survive.

©sjwordsmith

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