Scribbled Song
And the song shall live on.
For all the ages of the rising sun.
In till the very last human is gone.
For a voice to no longer sing.
It echos through times of suffering and plenty.
It becomes of the divine.
So pure it is no longer of this world.
A immortal being in its own right.
And yet it sits scribbled on piece of paper.
Just waiting to be picked up by someone.
By anyone.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
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