Dead Soul’s Tale
Roaming like a dead
In the world of death.
People are dying,
Every minute and second.
You were busy seeing deadly twilight?
Lonely soul was looking for a full moon!
Where were you my love?
What should I call you, escapist?
Or the queen of death!
Roaming like a dead beneath the sky,
Ohh sweet heart long tiring nights,
Hold my soul like yours beloved finger!
Ha ha, surely you placed my epitaph!
The poet is a journalist for The Daily Observer