By Euphedra Aster
Tears are like silver; they think of themselves,
Through the leaves of the trees,
And the time rings in twelves,
The clouds cry in sun, but there shan't be any sky,
For the pleads that impedes,
And the rain doesn't dwell.
Snow is like sorrow; it falls for the damned,
Through the cries and the lies,
But the weak ones withstand,
The weak ones are wise, but the strong ones are wry,
And the guise I despise,
But those strong still remand.
Wind is like anger; it's weak and its strong,
Some debate on its hate,
But those people are wrong,
It holds a fierce plead, but few hear its cry,
Through the strait, it's still great,
But its home it will long.
YOU ARE READING
Walking Into Black
PoetryDon't fear death. It does nothing for you. Death is at every turn; the challenge is if you choose to accept it or not. Don't fear pain. Pain is how you learn. Pain is the side-effect of life. If you live life fearing getting hurt...can you tr...
