Poetry, Quill

Superficiality of death

The world thus comes to life,

Yet death still lurks on the pretty face,

Of a mother that just lost her child,

The mourning done, all rituals over,

What next? But the void still exists!

She did everything she could,

Yet nothing changed,

“His soul is at peace”,

Well, how do you know?

What proof do you have to say it’s so?

For all these people,

That never knew her child,

That knew of his existence,

Only AFTER he died,

What good must come from this facade?

The world still keeps turning,

As it should,

And she is now alone,Her hope lost for good…

Brevity, Quill

Hawk

Distant from the gigantic world, an island called humanity was living peacefully and alone.

But on that dark stormy night, a child named joy was born, soon to this counterpart, the evil hawk was drawn

Who in fear of losing his position snatched away all the smiles,

And threw them into the sea of plight.
A tale too little, yet toe large, A tale too blunt for the questions too sharp.