WARPED
My heart has warped,I feel no chill.
There's no pain,
That doth strike me down.
Death has come,
Yet I do not feel.
Although I feel no sorrow,
I wait upon the morrow.
That comes in spits and sparks,
For death it seems.
is in my dreams,
It's been there from the start.
Death comes to all with stealth,
It doesn't care about colour.
Or if you haven't any wealth,
For when it's knocking at your door.
That's when you'll truly know yourself,
Why did we invent war if it's not to kill
ourselves.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 130 times
Written on 2023-05-22 at 00:56
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
