Wednesday, January 16, 2013

The Withered

The pestilential man
Walking alone
So sad and distraught
He no longer has a home.
He's merely waiting
For death's sweet kiss
An angel awaiting
Heaven's bliss.
So lost in his daydreams
He falls to the ground
He's clothed in rags
But they feels like crowns
Upon his skin, how they glimmer
Glistening vibrantly
They shine and shimmer....
He opens his eyes
Staring up towards the sky
Tears well up
His small smile flashing
His hands, now outstretched
His life complete
His goal
Now met.

<Copyright Faith C. 2013>

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