Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2022
The time gone

Do not spill my blood.
On wasteland
Do not bury my last scream
In a grave.
I will walk softly
Across the screen
Leave no trace.
Only a whisper.
In the years to come
You will hear an echo
Recalling my name.
jan oskar hansensapopt
68
   mister truth
Please log in to view and add comments on poems