Friday, September 18, 2015


The stone cold darkness
Devours my soul
Devoid of hope,
And perhaps longing.

I struggle to breathe
To unleash the knots
Formed in my vessels-
the blue black colour of wrath

The sound of death 
Is louder than mourning
Said the bluebird,
Who flew away minutes before the dawn.

1 comment:

  1. Don't listen to the bluebird. He's a liar and the father of all lies.