Susceptible not to death,
Bound by the powers of the earth,
Chained to eternity of suffrage,.
We immortals have no mirage,
We wish not to search for beauties in the mirror,
Nor search for memories in our memoirs.
Susceptible to light,..
Drawn by darkness might,
Feed on fear n fright,
Tales of feelings so cold,
Actions not so bold,
Hiding in woods,
Yearning for taste of blood,..
We immortals,
We fall short of glory of love,
We fall down like sculptures,.
When its our time we burn in hell.
Susceptible to the heat of the sun,
Barren not to have a son,.
We pass by with the gush of wind,
Our long lives we can’t rewind,
We carry the scent of death,
Heart as pale as corpse,
Hurt by the curse,
We immortals are mere mortals,
Sceptical to the humour of life,
Jealous of the happy lives,.
We immortals never live to die.
©Phill_Ibsen
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