The Killing Time

No one helps when the one who need is weaker,
Maybe those stronger hands might give you more blessing
The request they make are just whisper,
Maybe the deafening silence of the whisper
is much more and stressing.
Struggle is the only hope to make it out alive,
Maybe those weaker ones don't thrill and thrive,
Can be the stronger one if not alone and alive.

The Killing Time unwillingly mine,
A hell to undergo to shine.Fate up against my will,
Can i hustle to make it up to the hill.

Broken hope, lost ,sort of empty, shattered,
like a sole lonely soul in a deep endless black hole.
surrounded but still alone,
In a world so selfishly drawn.
the worst is about to come,
collapsing trust of the weaker, so tattered.
It's better to burn out than to fade away,
Certainly giving up is not a way.
what all you need is eternal lust,
Its better to burn out than it is to rust.

The Killing Time ,Hurts like Hell
What happened to me, i can't yell.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem