A world slowly darkening.
A dimension gradually breaking.
The sky looks as if it's crashing.
All I did was standing still.
Still, as time was moving.
Still, as life was worsening.
Still, and slowly as I'm dying.
And my poetry remains.
Unenlightened.
Unacceptable.
Uncontrollable.
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 10:12 AM UTC
