Afterlife
And the rituals began, the
Devil sang, as the candles
emanated their eerie glow.
Forbidden verses echoed,
beastly eyes awaited, to feast
on the blood cursed to flow.
The longing for life had
never been so steep, as my
soul mourned a fatal blow.
My restless heart found
peace in chaos, a dagger
beats in my septum though.
YOU ARE READING
THE PREMISE OF LOVE
PoetryMy Poetry, the art form of the soul, is an exquisite tapestry of language that weaves together emotions, thoughts, and experiences with skillful craftsmanship. It is a captivating expression of the human spirit, transcending time and culture, to tou...
