Death, what is it?
Something that seems illicit
But which is inevitable
An event with which we can never be affable
When we carefully muse
We realise it brings peace, that we can't refuse
One who comes to being has to go
Levying their loved ones with pain they can't forego
We blame the circumstances for the heart to pacify
Truth is fate is arbitrary, something we can't deny
Death, what is it?
I say, something that sweeps away happiness with it.
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Vent To My Heart
PoetryI started writing to vent out my deep emotions. For me a poem is something that can never be subjective, it's always up for interpretations. When you get overwhelmed or happy or sad or anxious you can always opt for writing poems like I did and do...
