Will death conquer all Always?
As fear shall breathe,
Down the very necks of man,
A being tested for his doings,
Based on the choices he makes,
Passions are twisted absurd,
And we wonder,
How would love fly?
If it's wings were broken,
High above,
In the light blue sky,
A hope that floats up,
As many paths are to be taken,
And many trenches,
To jump over,
And the long road lays ahead,
Whilst the bard sings his poems,
To the tune of the morrow,
Full of arrows,
Piercing the core,
Of the hurt heart,
Maybe- the fog might disappear,
And all would be bright and clear.