The Switch of Necrosis

We are not infinite,

we are only 

ignited embers

of burned out pyres,

mortality seeping through

our bones

of scattered sand dunes

from an hourglass,

time,

past due

and curtains deceasing

at grandstand,

but there are no standing ovations,

at the last blink of sorrow,

yet beauty still lingers

along the path

of shooting stars,

cascading and falling from

grace,

death,

and we make magic

of that.

Author's Note

I don't even know why I wrote this

Reviews

[Antonio Valentino]

reminds me of an ol chevy i had.. i only replaced the parts that i could afford to as long as it would still keep running along.. but i still loved that car, maybe because it was my first..

we'll all be in the junkyard one day i suppose.. but there is something to be said for stretching out the days for something/someone you care about..

this was great as always
:)

[demureminds]

Haha yeah I agree.
Thanks

[Tai Ryens]

You've packed much intensity within your words, so many events in one's life explained through your poem. Great job.

[demureminds]

Thank you