I somehow grew accustomed to death,
Seeing it as an inevitable threat,
taking many members of my family
Yet it just never fails to shock me.
---
Young and old; saint or sinner,
It matters not, what death's after
Your life and time, for it has come
Then your heart will stop beating its drum.
---
Now I cry and grieve for what I've lost.
People you love can hurt you the most.
For reunion, I'll wait to be with them in the rapture,
Hoping for their souls that the enemy didn't capture.
---
Written: April 7 2016
ESTÁ A LER
R.I.P. (Radical. Immortal. Poetry.)
PoesiaI live and I will die but my words soar high written in skies of paper, allowed me to live forever. - Snippets of my soul in a piece of paper. R.I.P. originally stands for "Rest in peace." Coincidentally, I find that peace upon writing poetry and p...
