Death Will Takeover Pain

Unclaimed souls that were
Left behind in the harsh winter
Drenched in blood and snow

Didn’t utter a single sigh,
Failed to come out of
The state they always find

Themselves in, deserted by
Their loved ones, now
Developed incurable diseases,

Dying every day in pain,
Writhing on the death bed,
With no one around to feed

Their mournful mouths.
Dry, patched and stitched skin
Draining bile and pus, flies

Hovering around the open black
Wounds, with darkness, growing
In and around, the time passed

In sighs and sobs, sometimes a
A loud cry can take away the pain
And suffering for a while,

The clock in one of the corners
Of the dimly lit room ticks
Nonstop and works as a catalyst

And will pave way for the death
To take over the suffering and pain
Sobs and sighs no longer reverberate.