The inner voice: Friend of Death.

By Nileangel - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Friend of Death.

Chilly body, aching bones, the seductive sound of the black crow. Withered roses, fresh dug earth, coffin the canal of my re-birth. Crescent moon rises, spirits awake, wanting me to stay and play. Something tells me this is not my place, I must go, no time for delay. Darkness around me starts to... Sign in to see full entry.

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