I Hear My Time Is Near

The sickness of being used
to the abnormality.
The silence from the worlds
greatest music.
It's deafening

The Six string lays there on the floor
I feel It's dead.
Its singing It's last note.
I've lost the battle
With the ever drowning
.feeling of dread.

The melody that kept buzzing
Inside my soul
Its dead, It went out.
The blaze of the flare
It's been put out.

When It's my time,
I hope to sing the song of death.
Then Just carry my pieces
To the nearest ocean
They want to swim
out of the loneliness.

Poetry by Manish Pokharel
Read 187 times
Written on 2018-08-18 at 19:01

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