The heat from the night breaks the sweat.
In my face and with distaste.
I am ice cold.
Shivers runs the spirals suede.
Crystallized are my thoughts.
Freezing my memories inside my head.
What to ever is left for my sins in the land of forever.
I will burden the carrying of my cross.
From one specific time to point me in the direction of another.
Craving the death of mine to be sudden.
I doubt much for a must.
Because, with whom the who? ? ?
Will I have to beg my mercy.
To score a really great one in a dEatHtImE bargain.
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Comments about this poem (Deathtime by Unic Cjonr )
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- So Sensitive In My Heart, Rohit Sapra
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(c. 600 BCE)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)