Skip to content

Doomed fate…

July 7, 2015

image

The furnace burns,
The soul tires,
The mind wanders,
The heart in million predictable pieces ,
The crow dies,
The wolf loses its pack,
It can’t stop roaming,
Eternal suffering and dreams piled in bones .
The hand giving up on the straw,
The ball falling off the court,
Stitching your wound to hide the suffering.
No amount of masquerade can  overturn fate ,
The philosopher’s gun meant for the ignorant masses became the key for the ‘suicide doors’

Advertisements

From → dark poetry

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: