Standing on this edge of sword
Watching life ebb away
Dying slowly from this wound
That has become a tattoo in my heart
No one will hear me call
No one will see me fall
Until the body hits the ground
Because everyone is too busy with life
Finding happiness in tears
Invoking comedy from tragedy.
There is not much to say
To get the attention of the laities
So I will just stand still here
And let the blade cut deeper
Till this wound become steeper
And all the blood drained
While I die slowly…
Don’t cry for me
Don’t blame my choices
Life gave us all a chance to choose
And my choice is to stand here
Waiting for the sword to become blunt
Hoping somehow that this tears will be cut short
When there is no more heartbeat
When I can no more feel the sun’s heat
monetization_on Your support is vital! Please consider making a generous donation to help us empower African writers and literature.
If you liked this story, kindly leave a comment below
Simple and nice... couldn't have communicated this message any better. Thumbs up
By posting any content on coutales.com, you are agreeing to be bound by our terms and conditions. Kindly take note that you are entirely and solely responsible for any content you make available on this website, either by submitting a literature or by your actions in the comment sections and other part(s) of this website.
If we get notified or become aware that you have submitted any content that infringes the intellectual property rights or any proprietary rights of any third party, we may delete or amend it accordingly. We reserve the right at any time and for any reason to remove you and/or any content contributed by you.