The Pessimists Cowardise
105 Words
In your sick bay
Weakened bones
Tremble souls
Oh death! You shout has come
You shiver, waver
To be declared gone.
You tremble of death
Not anytime soon
To say goodbye.
Your past with you
Tribulations befalls
In a haze and downswing.
Oh sorcerer
You say after your soul
Take - a souls -searching
Why not calm yourself down
Prefer a tribulation before the crown.
Dark cloud appears
Tingled skins
Busy bodies
Fears the mighty storm shall come. Ripple effect, that man have to start again
Storms tossed under the sun.
Why not decide
For what's good for yourselves?
O, you pessimists
Leaping in the dark.
- Writer
