Advertisements
Poetry

Stories And Life

I know ancient stories about not having hope;

Derived through dark mysteries of longing hearts,

Deepening inside a void that never fills;

You know, I’m losing sanity to stay calm.

I often rush my mind, over which night changed my soul,

I longed for such atrocities that a human feels ashamed, a painful truth;

Still, I long for someone, with whom I could cry and laugh,

You know, I’m losing control to stay sane.

Deathra, I named you after a merci-less goddess;

I’ve hatred, love, and fear for your acts of absence,

I couldn’t help more, but write and crave, but seek and rejoice.

One ancient story speaks about a man,

Empty, cruel, soulless defines him;

Nothing he has, but pain and suffering

To offer his beloved to live a life.

I rest my eyes now, Deathra,

It’s a gift I can write, alas, it’s a curse I live.

#sjwordsmith

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: