Candle dies
This is the man behind those words,
Creating stories to be heard,
Under the dim light while he's hurt.
Broken and fear,
Only seen by the paper,
Not the people who cheer.
It's the only place to rest his mind,
From disguised faces who laughed and declined,
In silence, he screams to the mankind.
But at times,
He's out of rhymes,
So empty sometimes.
It's sad to realize,
One night the candle dies,
Leaving the papers scattered while he cries.
YOU ARE READING
Memory Graveyard
PoetryThis is a unique competition. You will want to be a part of this.
