Loud screams, dark nights, drunken people. outrageous fights.
I try to keep calm, but it doesn't seem to work.
Bullets are let off, I think I'm hurt
Blood is leaking, I feel so faint.
I feel so empty, but I feel no pain.
Slowly fading, flying high.
I am no longer a person of this earth, for I have died
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Comments about this poem (Short Poem by Poetry Queen )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
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