My Immortal Gown

The temple bells bears the guilt of the valid blood

Men delicately spirit drown in the water of baptism

The flowers and candlestick groans as gruesome fly

We roam the grave as raven cawing the silent womb

Dead these days happen as churning exercise

As  flood victims are evacuated into their nestling

Life showcases the shortness and brutish states

Their weakness can be felt when tears and sand pours

Sullen the surly neighbouring home began to mourn

All is surmise in the nostalgic moments & memoirs

The beauty of the narcissistic mirror fades when broken

A sleep each wished to run away from but I desire

For the gown of probity lies in the truth I proclaim

The mystery I defile for purity and stoically way I lived

You  kill my burrowing body but my spirits sleeps

A blessed blue pleasure that expresses the tincture faith

A hope adorn in a minded body to regain his lost dignity

I am not predestined to die rather I will be revolutionized

As a fledgling season perfect in my immortal gown

Doing the work that portrays the sole desire of my creator


~Martin Ijir 


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