Phantom Of Pain Poem by Anshuttam Mishra
Phantom Of Pain
Around, all around, the storm clouds gather.
My dread grows as doom's scythe falls against my naked soul.
It smites me, and darkly my
vitae drips
to the cold, uncaring tombstones.
In a haze of shock I fall limply
while the Reaper takes my hand.
Now alone, my supplication falls upon blind eyes.
This is my Hell.
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4/25/2024 12:00:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
