Death said to the Introvert,
"You're just like me,
bottling your misery.
And just like me,
you will never stop."
"Like bulls in an arena,"
The Introvert replied,
"We will find our demise.
At least we tried
To gain from the crop."
Death curled his fingers,
sighed towards the sky,
and took the Introvert
into the night.
"Heaven nor Hell
may keep you,"
Death promised,
"You're mind
is the unfair kind."
And so,
together but silent,
they agreed
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poetry (For You)
Poetry"Poetry" collection poems, songs, phrases, etc A bit of my heart and soul in every phrase, stanza, line.
