Ill-Fitted Fate Poem by Micah Thompson

Ill-Fitted Fate



When silence falls deep across the land,
And movement found not by the naked eye.
Trust in nothing beyond thine hands,
Treat everything as if a spy.

Dawn is soon coming,
You and your will must not be late.
Ready your self-witted daggers,
Here comes thine ill-fitted fate!

Friday, January 4, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: fate,silence,trust
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Micah Thompson

Micah Thompson

Fayetteville, North Carolina, USA
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