Listening the rythm pumping in my veins,
Throughout my body, the flow of it no longer remains.
It’s cold, dusk is appearing on the other side
Of life. What is it that I see?
A black line lying on the edge of the sea
Surrounded by a fading light and shade
Which cuts this image as a sharp blade.
Distorting my sight, confusing my mind,
What is it I’m supposed to find?
The rythm is left behind.
This poem was written/submitted by Mervet Ziane.Email This Poem To Your Friend