The pitter patter of a typewriter shadows me narrating. The thumping sound letters like a rattling fence in a storm; berating.
There is a kaleidoscope of lights, on the line between life and death,
Do not read - this will corrupt and destroy your soul. You have been warned
8 syllables per line, 40 lines, 20 rhymes, 4 times 2 = 8...Im crazy. Just a poem of our relatable daydreams on the question of whats after death.
Waaaaaaar
Something that just came out of my mind
Heaven has humongous places For googolplexes of strange races
button-poetry
love poem contest about undying adoration with a twist: death, nature, afterlife, reincarnation and white magic.
I once thought when I was younger. If we died, we would turn into dust particles and roam freely w/no worries
Trying something a little different. A welcome to the afterlife.
The pitter patter of a typewriter shadows me narrating. The thumping sound letters like a rattling fence in a storm; berating.
There is a kaleidoscope of lights, on the line between life and death,
Do not read - this will corrupt and destroy your soul. You have been warned
8 syllables per line, 40 lines, 20 rhymes, 4 times 2 = 8...Im crazy. Just a poem of our relatable daydreams on the question of whats after death.
Waaaaaaar
Something that just came out of my mind
Heaven has humongous places For googolplexes of strange races
button-poetry
love poem contest about undying adoration with a twist: death, nature, afterlife, reincarnation and white magic.
I once thought when I was younger. If we died, we would turn into dust particles and roam freely w/no worries
Trying something a little different. A welcome to the afterlife.