A silent mourn

At midnight,
the only vibrating sound
is the echo of something that was supposed to be a poem
My muse has no face,
no soul,
not even a heartbeat,
but a heart left to rot.

I’m bleeding for a thousand soldiers,
as darkness is tearing me apart
Dying, a last thought is crossing my mind —
Save me.
On the battle field,
I hear Death whispering my name,
and a promise that I will be eternal.

I lay my soul in a grave of hopes,
and I put on a crown that’s made of bones
The war is nearly ending
and i’m coming home,
seeking my one true love.


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