death

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  • Death

    death

    In the crowded room I cannot see
    and the room steals my breath
    theres a casket in the corner
    this is way to close to death
    flowers perfume the air
    but sadness is all i see
    you can cut the grief that feels the room
    theres a fog lingering over me
    everyone is whispering
    I can't hear a thing
    The organ music is pounding
    I wish this were a dream
    Things are moving in slow motion
    I really want to scream
    and it scares me that tomorrow
    will never be the same


     

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    jaysarey’s Poems (2)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    death 0
    not a moment too late 0