I somehow managed to predict,
My own downfall;
It was a bit obvious,
But surprising after all.
The death of us
Became the death of me;
Now I'm a dead man walking,
Trying to be as happy as I can be.
The death of me,
The poet I once knew;
We all thought it was a long time coming,
But ended up dying so soon.
Remember those romantic words?
Remember when I thought about you?
Now I have my mind on someone else,
Someone else that neither of us knew.
I call her my little suicide,
She calls me her rebel;
I've opposed her will for so long,
But she doesnt care how I meddle.
I miss her,
I know she misses me;
As dead as I feel,
Soon us both will be free.
You, free from the loneliness;
Me, free from this prison;
Even though I'll end up six feet under,
Together we will be risen.
But enough about us,
Because today is a sad day;
The death of a poet occurred,
But... I'll be ok.
YOU ARE READING
Darkness of a Poet
PoésieEverything good has a bad side... sometimes we need to let it all out to understand ourselves completely. In this poem book, I reflect on that scary dark side that I have and vent about it.
