For Poets: A place called death

by Ore Fakorede

The darkest part of darkness,

An endless kind of night.

A place of total blankness,

Without a trace of light.

The echo of my voice is,

A whisper and a cry.

The melody of noises,

In silence passes by.

A pool of hopes forgotten,

Is what I’m swimming in.

The demons I was courting,

Now reside deep within.

Among the humans drifting,

I often find my place.

My spirit feels no lifting,

It’s much too late for grace.

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