My sky was pink but now perennially
grey
To snuff a hearts warm ember is a
child’s play
The only question that you can ask
is,”Are you still alive?”
But our hearts know that sooner or
later I’ll succumb to the strife.
Your words of affection now feel like
prayers
And the road not taken lies in
infinite snares
Amidst the dreary hour, my fate
unsure,
These blood-stained love letters, a
testament pure.
Though death may beckon, but memories
never fade,
For my heart is a casket which if
opened will cascade.
We slaughter our own kind in a
covetous chase,
Forgetting that a corpse has no
religion or race.
Our love shall not be forgotten even
after my demise,
It is the future’s folklore, conveying
the truth between the lies.
A legacy beyond the war and its roar,
Because love is an evergreen metaphor.