PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Flat space of deafening silence inside and out

Gravid emptiness between the bustling of the leaves

And the humming of the flies so quick to pass by

A deafening silence roaming across the cadavers’ confines

Turning cold feet by the thought of days that shall go by

Playing the dumb instance that convoys cold feet inside

Murmurs of the cold breeze that tells us how we would all be

The same kind of stillness, inert into the depths of tranquility

Painless and safeguarded by a complete stranger

Who talks every so often to make himself omit

The thought of his turn when his time is up