I Hear My Time Is Near
The sickness of being usedto the abnormality.
The silence from the worlds
greatest music.
It's deafening
The Six string lays there on the floor
I feel It's dead.
Its singing It's last note.
I've lost the battle
With the ever drowning
.feeling of dread.
The melody that kept buzzing
Inside my soul
Its dead, It went out.
The blaze of the flare
It's been put out.
When It's my time,
I hope to sing the song of death.
Then Just carry my pieces
To the nearest ocean
They want to swim
out of the loneliness.
Poetry by Manish Pokharel
Read 329 times
Written on 2018-08-18 at 19:01
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