Poetry

Poem: Joy in Death

I don't count seconds and I don't count joy.

I count this life that has gone from the inside the soul

it is ripe and torn from the boy

who used to live only in the sun.



Sin and despair in the final hour

wishing he lived no more, dreamed no more.

To tear down the tower of bitterness

by the sorrow and bore.



Take away this sanity,

save me from myself.

flavor away this agony

for the time till I'm dead.

 

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