This one is rather nice...
When the clock strikes twelve
The child of many names
Raises their fist in revenge
Toiling a cloak of heavy pain
And a smile for what they shall gain
A sword is bared, a sight,
a claw in the darkest night.
When the clock strikes seven
The child of many names
Has finally found Heaven.
A peace longed for between petals
Of roses and poppies,
And gone is the dragging metal
Laid upon their bare shoulders
The metal that carries all the lies
All the names carved upon a boulder
Of deep granite, dark as their face
When the clock strikes twelve.
(September 23rd, 26th, '23)
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠
