- Books, Literature, and Writing
A Bright Sunny Day
The winds of death, scatter our lives apart.
Dust covers the remains of fossilized feelings,
not yet found.
Let me hold the cold hand, one more time.
When I swooned and fell on your grave,
could you feel my tears?
When I pounded the earth in anger, would
you have responded if you could?
Behind dead dreary roses lies the tombs of our
now dead dreams.
So many of our plans died in the battle ensued.
Anger was a worthy feast when you were taken.
Death was a worthy adversary, a fallen one.
Life was an unquenchable thirst, as the
parched lips of Happiness choked and died
from dehydration of the soul.
Clenched fists and powerful crushing frowns
are now my only way with dealing with
my loss to Death.
However, when I am strong enough I'll
battle him again, and he will
fall slashed and dead at my feet,
as you to his feet,
in my vengeance.