Categories
Poetry

Just, don’t wail

The noose is too lose for my neck.
There are some waiting for my death
There is some hope still left in souls.
In the midst of mountains, I want my lips to dry
But through the crevice of my eye
I see those mountains
Glowing in the morning sun of valley
I don’t need them to cry for me
I just want a flower planted at my grave
I want people to smile at my grave
I want them to forget my story
I want them to live, cherish and laugh
I’m dying for them, they don’t need to die.
But I know the tyrant
His thirst of blood.
There will be more in line of this noose
There will be blood still in the streets
If you think, it is wrong, maybe you are wrong
There is a delight in devouring death
Not with spite but a smile
There is pleasure in dying for a cause
There is no mourning in heavens
There is no death more blissful than this.
But this god damn noose
This is too lose for my neck.
Just don’t wail.

By aamerbasher

Aamir Bashir is a Romance fiction writer. He has been writing for a while. Her Choice to Love is his first book.

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