'The Dead Soil' Poem by Armando Pribadi

Lack of thrilling sweats within,
this night I redeem to exhale an overshadowing breath as I swore to undo your illness and sickness then spew it forth to me.

Let my back be your place to dream on,
though tomorrow I shall be dying but I never regret to borrow u my insecure body,
again as a place for your lives, not for your lies.

Purify me like I purify your hollow mind where laid on a tomb,
guarded by restless skies,
parched by matchless inferno that dances onto the end of its blaze.

I can't be more of help if u still crying,
cause its now or never,
I'll wake you up,
forever and one we bestow this dead soil against the foolishness of our fate.