World

poem by: Rakel Duca
Written on Dec 19, 2016

Skeletical hands, making plans.
As night roams our minds..
From beyond the grave our fate is made.
Our plight slowly climbs, our invader,
A soul trader, where do you pass your time?
Upon hills, calculating thrills,
Which casts away your prime...
Metal threads makes your bed, as cages shoulders your crimes.
Justice is here we shall not fear, as mortality rates does climb.
Clutching fate our heart at stake..
The lonely and listless find.
Grasping straws at open doors, only wishing to climb.
Fateful one, from where have you come?
Only the heartless roar, with mirthless souls
Lose control, slammed , shutting out the flaws.
Grave digger point the finger, no more for a cause.
Witches spells blow flames from hell, shutting mortel doors.
Soul trader, instigator, where was the reality cut?
Is the care still out there? Or are we caught in a rut?
Soulless one, what have you done?
Is your mind a whirl? Lost grace, in the human race,
Our wings clipped and furled.
All in this name , play your game, for I am the world..
By Rakel duca

 

Tags: faith, metaphor, deep,

Add Comment


A previous user commented:
really good. love the rhythm.
Christopher Russon commented:
I agree with Paddy good rhythm and good rhyming and of course good poem.

 

 

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