Dark Poetry

End

Pain rushes through my breast

As if one had bored into

with a claw

 

A wellknown loss

and when I don't bridle

decay will devastate this spot

 

Now death has kissed us after all

It's his blank scythe

and only one word he says.

Inga Veit, Publizistin M.A. & Coach  |  ingaveit@web.de