He is cold, iced, dead. Haiku
A frozen grave that his worth
He is cold iced dead Haiku
His icy heart died
his body turned to dark dust
nothing grew just death
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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By S. A. Crawford6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
👏👌
Talk about dark and darkness. Good job.
Beautifully done!