DyingA Poem by BiroPen
Ice-cold,
Slowly dying. Falling, But feels like flying. Darkness, Or ghostly shadows. Movement, Or windy meadows. Calmness, Before a storm. Brightness, Creates a form. Walking, But can't go back. Enveloped, In an endless black.
© 2013 BiroPen |
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Added on December 2, 2013 Last Updated on December 2, 2013 |