the distance steals
the oxygen from
my lungs as i lie
awake at three
am thinking of
you

she has never quite realized the power held in words.

Writing a poem is not my obligation,
But it's a command of my heart that full of emotion.

.

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communicate•such are her methods to make us see•
she tries to                    the mother we've abused to such
the way                              a state•the earth we've squand-
it is                                         ered so very blindly•but we do
•                                              not change our ways • instead
                                                  we devise our feeble solutions•
                                               bunkers and alerts, in place we
                                           lay•hoping these would halt her
                                   spiteful vengeance•the past has sha-
                   red of what transpired before•our days carry
      on without words of thanks•we could never learn
of what's in store•what ripple could grow to consume    

  
**our banks•

.
*•••••••
•here lies
the  rema-
ins• that once
beat with  superb lustre•
caring not for worldly gains•on-
ly undying  hopes  of pairing  with
another• but fate had tipped  the scales, not in his favour
•when  it  sent an  oncoming  car to share  the  same lane•
driver was behind the wheel but alcohol had  taken over•
causing the car to swerve recklessly
in the rain• the last  few moments
was punctuated with a deaf-
ening sound•his
day began
not know-
ing  death
was  writ-
ten   from
the  start•
so here li-
es *he, whose
heart had thus
been crowned •
his love is immortalised with this tombstone as his heart•
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