Micro-Poetry #10



Seeming impossible,

To become,

To wield,

To be powerful –

Though conquering life

Comes at the weakest of times.



A blissful entrancement,

An emancipation,

Of the fleeting desire to become,

Colliding as one,

To the sound of death’s beating drum –

Laying in the ground in a rot,

Rotting to the sound of life.

Tell us what you thought:

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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