Loosing Death

She says -
Everytime He slips out of my hand.

Few flesh sticking
On her bones
The burned flesh
They laugh at me
And try to embarrass me.

My wounded part
My happiness and sadness

Tragedy

A horse on a broken cup on a wooden plank
Reminds me of the tempest
In her heart.
Heart broken but on a strong plank
He resides to make the picture look good.

Sometimes the biggest tragedies
Are the biggest inspirations.