Death

"Part of me dies within me,"
you said.
But why?
But why won't you cry, and wail, and roar?
Because the cryer, the wailer, the roarer
is dead.
Dead
but not alseep.
Then tell me.
Tell me why are you sad, distressed and heartbroken?
That's the echo of the dead,
whisper of the ghost.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
18

You might also like…

Poetry
Poetry

Cost of Living

Joel Shoemaker

Joe's knuckles bled, the result of inflation.
Tonya was some sort of greedy little Tinker Bell wannabe. She even had the wings to go along with it. She wore them every single day. The whole idiotic ...  [+]

Poetry