Death: Iv Poem by Awsaaf Ali

Strings o' de'd piano singeth,
Voices beaneth its heart, expelleth,
Movin' sadness o' my grave, murmureth,
Coffin o' t'se broken love weep'th,
Every pint o' her voice, serene tasteth,
Every drop o' her saliva, my lips t'en consumeth,
Eyes h've I open'd, memories t'se,
Enigmatic'ly disappeareth,
Hairs o' mine, tranquil breeze pusheth,
Words within my mouth, die in t'at war o' silence,
Shrinketh bosom o' mine, fume exposeth,
Yet the requiem, w'th victorious head o' silence, stoppeth hath not,
Burstin' blisters on fingers o' mine, squeezeth the throat o' thy piano.