white cut sleeves

I felt him

rise from his deep slumber

The new day shall begin

as the old day is numbered


He felt me

gravitate towards the light

I felt the need to be free

but it was too bright


I feel him

drowned in a dark amalgamation

The touch of sin

makes his face lose sensation


I feel myself

drift away, to nowhere else

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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