The breeze sends
It's whispers
Through the barren
branches with the
Sounds of echos
Of the lost voices
That fate discarded
And had no more
Need of: Time herself
Had lost her cries.
Because life is a book
With open pages
That simply turn
Faster than you can
Read them.
It is a series
Of love stories
And hardships
And a gallery of one.
One's life,
One's pain,
One's love,
One's hardships,
One's whispers,
And one's ending.
That is bookmarked
And dog-eared
For all to read.
And when
That one fateful
Breeze pushes the
Pages closed
And who, besides
Time will cry to the
Wind about
A story they never
Even fully read?
It is the words
Between the lines
That reveal the
True plot
And the downfall
That nobody
Ever could see,
But the leaves still
heard before they fell,
Roughly crashing
Against Earth
And reality.
YOU ARE READING
Gracelessly
PoetryAs the tides turn, As the times change if everything is extraordinary is anything? In the end, the truth shines out all her flaws ring and shout. The moonlight shines and in it she falls gracelessly she, soulless, grays eternally The pandemonium sho...
