Friday, July 12, 2019

The only story

I heard that this world has a story
A beautiful story; sad and serene
That's all that remains at the end
Violence never survives, if any.
In this quiet afternoon I wonder
How the writers never mattered!
Each story with the same destiny
The remnant, a torn piece of paper,
Burnt at the edges, defiance within.
One thin thread, countless needles.

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Choice

At 03:17 UTC, the system stopped. Nothing on Earth stopped with it. Freight trains moved through mountain tunnels, satellites adjusted their...