In The Suicide Forest where people died.
Alone where mothers used to cry
Where parents, lovers, children went
To give all that they were to death
Bodies hanging from the trees
Dangling in all the leaves
Sadness burns as red as blood
All their pain it came from love
All those secrets in the closet
Lay there still, and yet they're locked in
The key, you see, cannot be found
For it's buried six feet underground
No one mourned and no one cared
In death they found all that they feared
They're stuck there in the twilight zone
Hanging, swaying all alone
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language. These are generally morbid poems for people who are generally morbid, or maybe just taking a small step into the shadow realm. This is a trigger zone. I don't own t...
