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No exit

August 13, 2014

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Ripping apart their insides to find valour,
But they keep running
Crashing their head in the ruin.
They lay to meditate but the mourning never ceases,
Life an eternal slavery,
Forever quarantined,
They call it a curse…I think.

Their longing for the stream still alive,
But the stench of mutilated parts all so fresh.
Hanging on a puppet thread
Above the bloodstained ground
Getting suffocated by fear.

A dark cloud hangs over,
Persistence is imagining serenity,
“Hey little raven,
Are you still in there?
Or your fate still lies in the land of the bound?”

Graveyard rose onto destruction will,
A resurrection in the horizon?
Perhaps
Not
They will resign eventually,
Alas!No exit sign!

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From → dark poetry

2 Comments
  1. Intense and refreshingly exotic.

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