Deathy Mould Poem by Melvina Germain
Deathy Mould
Cry out, scream, regurgitate
that longing for a world of peace.
We'll die, rise up, come back again,
and observe violence has yet to cease.
How long does it take for a conscious mind,
to look beyond, reaching out to the great divine.
We are forced in a pool of the strangest land,
due to deceit, disobedience and that evil hand.
But! the closed mind most humans hold
withers and dies in life's deathly mould.
Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Oct.13/2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 3:55:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
When I first saw the title, I thought the poem may have been about the inside of my sneakers.: -) Sorry! : -) I needed to add some levity (true tho it was) to the darkness of this poem