A name hand-written in sand washed away by the sea,
A name carved in glass shattered into a thousand pieces,
A name on a grave half-hidden by a church hall,
A name you appal as you stumble down every tree-lined valley.
Humble curses and sickened shrieks.
God, how do you live with this? Sitting watching the setting sun,
Oh, what a mess you have become.
Sunken and wrecked breathes that see friend and foe the same,
Perhaps it's time for you to crawl off this lane,
It's all the same, a blade, not rope...
Perhaps that's the only way you can cope,
Without taking the life,
Your parents gave you,
And showing them that their love,
Could not sustain you.
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poems | A Collection of Poems Written by I
PoetrySometimes a story can be told in just a few lines.
