It Won’t Make A Sound

It Won't Make A Sound, a micropoem by Walk In Verse

Rope heightens,
Noose tightens
Into a knot.

The chair creaks,
The knees quake,
A sudden drop.

Breath escapes,
Death initiates;
It won’t make a sound
Taking your last day.

It Won’t Make A Sound by K. Saitta
© 2007-2020 Walk In Verse All rights reserved

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Life II

Hells gate: A crimson fate. The afterlife: No retake.


I’m Done

Torrential rains transcending down upon me From your morbid vengeance of self-centeredness, With your lust of destruction and melancholy state;

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