The surroundins are still.

It seems as if

Nothing dares to move.

Afraid of the concequinces.

Even the trees

are standing there ground

Against the wind.

The only other being

In this area

Is motionless.

No use trying to create

A conversation.

The hand placed over

The Cheast.

A heartbeat is felt.

Unable to understand

This feeling of being dead.

Maybe it's that

There's nothing to hope

Or live for.

Lying and waiting

For something

Anything.

Topics: poem
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