katarina bowman (07/18/94 / delaware)
Its ten twelve,
Its minutes till it all will be revealed.
I’m racing though the dark,
Screaming out his name.
Pounding at the ground,
Cursing all that is dark.
Midnight is creeping, coming closer then ever,
Where is he,
Where is my savior?
Its 5 till midnight,
The magic will soon pass by.
Yet he is still not here.
Tears are streaming down my face,
I give one final desperate scream into the night.
The sky darken, my life flashes,
All I can see is a blinded light.
All I can hear is his smoothing sweet voice,
He’s here, He’s back.
(Midnight Magic Has Brought him back from death….)
Comments about this poem (Midnight Magic by katarina bowman )
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