A struggle for life,
To live, to survive.
Every ragged breath,
Decreases chance to stay alive.
Too many gasps,
A fish starved of water.
Written off for certain death,
A cow; bred for slaughter.
What chance is there now,
When everyone already grieves?
But maybe you should fight,
Maybe you should believe.
With a little hope,
Those ragged breaths turn whole.
With a little help,
Let's create a fragile soul.
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Standing in a tidal wave of madness. I'm the one rising from the ashes. Cue the violins we're going down. Though I have this odd feeling that I'll be safe and sound. Destruction, bad construction.
It's hell. Screaming and yelling echoes through the blackened skies and down the ashen, fragmented streets. Chaos rules this broken place. Our new ugly king.
This is a poem I wrote in memory of relatives who were killed in a terrorist attack in India.
When my heart was breaking And the air was cold There was no one left for me to hold They were taken from me In the dead of night We were all shaking from fright When our whole world was ripped...
In the sea of lust. We desperately seek for land. In the sea of lust. We get pulled down by the rift. In the sea of lust. We are at risk of drowning. In the sea of lust.
Just a little poem that popped into my head. Abandon me in a cave, Throw me to the flames, I will be brave, I will walk away unscathed.
Banging at my window Howling at my door I will not let you in Despite your furore. I am not made of straw I am not made of twigs You cannot manipulate me For my house is made of bricks.
#household. It's all been thrown at us. We've got through with little fuss. It's been a test, for sure. Tragedy has beaten on our door. Lessons we have learned. Fingers crossed, but also burned.
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