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Death {Short, and bitter}
By Markus Darkscribe
Is it really time to sleep forever?
The years went by too fast
I sense the dirt hardening around my grave
As I yearn for squandered futures passsed
Love and happiness, ambitions unforfilled
As the untrue gods spat upon my brow
My name etched upon a ice cold stone
I dream wicked neath the willow's brough
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Copyright 2019 Markus Darkscribe
Comments on "Death {Short, and bitter}"
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On Saturday, October 26, 2019, Queazenart
(212)
wrote:
I like the grave imagery in this. Hardening dirt, ice cold stone. This is frigid.
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