Rues, Sorrows, Fears

By Ansh Thakur

When I’m under the grave, forever asleep

The ground would mourn and the sky would weep

Yet I don’t fathom the verity of this thought

I only hope I don’t get my rues to keep.

When my grave is wrapped under the snow

And they hope with the wind my ringer would blow

I don’t reckon I would rise from dead

I only hope to desert my sorrows.

Within the earth when my form wears

As the rain falls on my parched tears

I don’t believe out of the soil I’d grow

I only hope to stay away from my fears.

By Ansh Thakur