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: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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