Whispers Of Secret Death - Poem by Kim Jones
With the wind there blows an enticing secret
Egging me on to do what I should have done many years ago
Still I know better than to follow those whispers
For they lead to one place only: death.
The flute of secrecy played in every soul
Has finally infected me as well, I believe
Like a disease it starts as a thought
And grows to be a small spot on my skin
From hence it magnifies to cover my face
I am suffocated into life despaired.
The story of mine is not commonly known
And sometimes I'm glad of that
But mostly it's simply a tool to isolate
Until I'm forever alone.
Comments about Whispers Of Secret Death by Kim Jones
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye