Lastly everything vanishes from this world;
the scent of the tulip,
the green of the leaves.
The dawn of the day,
the night of the feast.
The soldier will put the gun down to go home,
happiness will come,
pain will be gone.
Tempest will blow over,
we will be flawless.
What you feel today will be nothing tommorrow.
My thoughts will cease to exist,
in the greyness of the mist.
I will do anything I can,
but my paper will run out under my pen.
YOU ARE READING
delusional.
Poetry❝Dreams are our unconscious thoughts that our awake mind can't handle.❞
