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Enormous and Vibrant Temple

I want to bury myself away in an enormous and vibrant temple
I say death, and all the flowers come in
And flowers don't feel anymore

I am free of my conscious soul
I was half - death made me whole

Illogical sleeping habits never appealed to me
I have always wondered - I am dead and I am free

Sleeping is not what death is about
It's not what breath is about

I'm feeling like a lonely lover,
Who won't wait until its over

Death just hase to be nice
Pink, plausible virtues gather around me to celebrate my death

I need to be silent, I need to be alone
And death is the cradle - although made of stone

poem by Ankita Sharma
Added by Poetry Lover
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