Lifeless face stares at me
It wasn't his time, yet they let it be
And how cold he lay
Now a body on the lonely walkway
For the man, they did despise
And for that it brought his brutal demise
The man he was cunning
Yet he knew not it was coming
And now he lays in his blood
Surrounded and hidden by the mud
Where no one weeps over him
And his life was cut by a trim
For the world is a cold place
Covered in a thin lace
That obscures our eyes
From the one who cries
YOU ARE READING
The Darkest of Days {#WATTYS 2015}
Random{Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder - RUMI} {I believed I wanted to be a poet, but deep down I just wanted to be the poem- Jamie Gil De Biedma} Poetry is what you really feel deep within your soul. It's the word...
