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Graves of Pain

She alike the oceans
concealed in her chest,
All the horror that passed through her,
Disasters put to rest.

She alike the fiery lava,
Charring self to dust.
Amidst the grip of blurry fear,
Follies of her past.

She alike the leaves of fall,
Swerving her way to doom.
Faded amongst a thousand shades,

Where dreary silhouettes loom. 

She alike the winter bird,
A herald to storms and rain,
Chirping in the waning light,
Her nest on graves of pain...


  1. Awesome poem.. hw do u get inspiration to write poems. .

  2. I'm deeply humbled by your words. Poetry is the fire in the belly that waits to be thrown up onto paper.


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