oh, i hear the steps above
might it be the grim reaper
edging his way through the house
nihilism creeps its way into my chest
so, this is the way it's going to be
all he wants is to be fine, but
remember: this world isn't made for happiness
eternally, like the popular play proposes, other people are hell
names float in my head, but their souls permeate my being
titular is their screaming in my head, their constant berating
gee golly whizz, he thinks as he descends into his grave
only able to see the dark sky above him, but there's hope (somewhere)
on the tip of his tongue, a lyric bursts:
"do not go gentle into that restless night!"
YOU ARE READING
sprinkle in the woods (poetry #6)
Poetry"and it rains and rains and rains and rains for five more years and it's cloudy for ten once they leave, i'll be sunkissed i'll be the rock in the light illuminated simply by your presence my fallen star, you've finally met me and it's so lovely lov...
