Number Twenty
There's a castle on a hill
A house of woes
Filled with sorrow where
One can linger
It is on top of a cliff
Lost in a gothic forest
Of Grimm's whispers
They forever warning
'Ye do not go there,'
'Abandon hope all ye who enter here,'
And yet the master of this haunt
Sits in his garden of roses
Humming along with the bees
Reading great tales of dreary and anguish
'Good sir, why hide in this castle of sorrow?'
'For if I left-
The bees would be lonely.'
YOU ARE READING
Empty Shadows
PoetryA book of pointless poems for broken hearts and lonely souls, but it is not going to change anything. Words for all the people I can't speak to with those things hidden in my shadow.
