Little white flowers
in dark grey frost;
Sleet mixed showers
of rain.
Icy rivers
in snow-lands lost;
Thorny black roses
of pain.
Singing ravens
feeding souls now tossed
from frozen corpses
in chains.
Howling winds
of death when crossed,
predator and prey
lay slain.
Scarlet streams
shimmering across
glossy white hills
and plains.
Entering the start
of this journey that costs
a man
his worldly gains.
Boarded doors and windows,
birds making way down south,
withering flowers and plants and trees
as we walk into Abaddon’s mouth
By: Viraj Belgaonkar
I absolutely love the contrasts in this poem!
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hey, thanks a lot 🙂
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My pleasure.
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