My Spirit Seems Wrecked

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I humbly beg of thee, o death, come speedily! I'm feeble with everyone, so let's rumble leniently. Whatever you handle, start coming down, O destiny. And to alleviate the acute pain in my wounded body. My heart is brimming with fissures and eternal misery. Wipe away his sorrow and mend the apparent incongruity. It is not cowardice, blaming, or valiantly attempting to flee. But the sore heart refuses to acknowledge humility tacitly. Or you could allow me to dwell in such a wolf obscenely. It is foolish to occupy the ideal life of a timid lamb belly.

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Victor Buhagiar

Date: 12/16/2021 9:59:00 AM

I relate with you. Sometimes I wish death would come and rid me of this painful mortal coil (with apologies to Shakespeare)

Demetrios Trifiatis

Date: 12/16/2021 4:35:00 AM

A profound poem filled with wisdom, my friend, Lasaad. Our friend, death, is just a celestial pillow on which our soul rests for a while, dreaming of the life to come! Blessings!