In the arms of death,

Possibilities are as clear as a starless night.

Space’s dark enough to start something fresh.

Time’s long enough to stitch melodies, tones and crests

Tears are never-ending, hydrating the soil that was long time dried.

Evil talks, like poetry, circling around.

Half of the body’s buried to the ground.

Pinch of hope is fear-eliciting.

Small dot of light turns to line then figure.

May enhance or absorb all sorts of vigour.

Life or death can not be predicted.

In the arms of death, the enemy.

About Miss_Pia

Neurotic Health-care Professional who enjoys sleeping, running, reading, introspecting, pole art and exploring new things and sometimes, places!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s