Syndrome….A poem

It, was, time.

As heavy as the darkest, coldest of nights; nights
where beasts join together in a sinister matrimony,
she hung her head in deepest shame.

She pleads for forgiveness as
Her scars slice deeper into her pulmonary artery.
Just as the cancerous syndrome inconspicuously stripped
her dearest friend from the life she was embracing.

She stood in a piercing mourn, praying for
the life to be sucked from her own body and
passed into the shattered corpse that lay before her.

It,was, too, late.

Fire, as inconvenient as a thief in the night,
devoured the coffin in an instant.
The dishonourable release of an untamed stench
disentangled the once warm and sincere feelings she
had for her friend.

She knew that beasts were aroused by the foul odour;
below they waited to consume the bitterly pungent adolescent.
It, was, done.

Published in: on April 16, 2012 at 8:19 pm  Comments (2)  
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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. The language is beautiful. I can empathize with the ‘she’ of the poem. Mourning feels exactly like this.

    • Thank you for your kind comment…it is much appreciated =D

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