I walked on the dirt,
The imbalance of the ecosystem created an unpleasant smell,
The path I followed reminds me of hell,
While I had my first confession at the sound of the church bell,
My eyes weakened,
My heart cried of an internal bleeding,
My soul whispered "I told you but you wouldn't listen",
I walked among the dead and the living,
And I wondered, who house the earth and made the sky our ceiling?
I walked slowly heading to my end, I heard a dying voice,
No it wasn't just one they were more of them,
I traced the voices hoping my life wont let go of my flesh,
And right in front of me,
I saw the doomed beings, I wondered if they were like me,
I felt a hand at my back,
He was old and weak,
I could see the wrinkle written all over his face like the Egyptian symbols,
He coughed out blood, it stained my lips and my left eyes,
He whispered this words
"you are among us,you are infected".
YOU ARE READING
The things you can't see, the things that see you
PoetryIn the silence of the night arouse something uncanny, a deformed soul, unworthy of existence we would have hope that the tales of the lost is yet to be told, but we humans are trapped in between the things we can't see and the things that see us.
