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Life

The tick of a clock tells you the sign, the bell which rings never go by time - Am i reliable to die, in the custody drawn by space, without the sanctuary of boundaries - Will i be accepted by a society which rejects, by the ghosts which never roamed the dead by alive - Who will be the judge and who will fail by jury, the loved to be hated, again - I know my sins and i know my ways, does that cast me past the sinister waves - I water not the flowers to the bloom of tomorrow, i burden my cross with the nails of sorrow - I cry when i am alone, i bleed with my bones, my tears cry with the blue in the sky - My pain is my life which hails, the thunder in violence is my train which derailed

poem by Unic Cjonr
Added by Poetry Lover
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