Run To Death

Run to death, run to the place of nights,
With all its pleasures and scares;
Taste of it this death as it stalks the night,
Ready to weep into the cells of the floor.
Repair now the destruction wrought on the globe
Of a better world, the best world in the galaxy,
A space is called an universe too cold and hot.
Such terror in the skies is an abyss of telling
And secrets are conspicuous in the very hot and cold.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!