The drizzling gentle rain's crisp,
Over the green they pour,
The water satisfied,
Uncovering it's prestige roars.
The peerless warmth on my skin,
Perceived deep in my soul,
But in a low voice I could hear,
Their utter whispers and call.
I couldn't recall the fading voice,
To return from that flawless place,
Only my echo to be felt pure,
No living trace.
In the edge forlorn,
Passed the lifeless stream,
No road to return,
To where it had been.
None mark or cipher of breath,
Held the grieving skies,
No true answer to the fact,
Backed up by turmoil lies.
I stayed there alone,
Lonely as always again,
Smelled the peace of the invisible dust,
As away in the heavens.
Dawn to dusk in the dark,
Was swift in that lane,
Making me abandon this feeling,
Regret running down my veins.
Just then I sense on my arm,
Tight hold which I endlessly fear,
Pulling back the chains to reality,
While my struggle hitch mere.
Just like a wasted star,
Coarse to be faced not fight,
Taken to the ghastly world,
To live again on shattered glass and die.
I wish dreams weren't just dreams,
This feel I longed forever away,
But you can't run away from the truth,
The grey wise ones say.
No one to listen,
My hurtful and bleeding cries,
I try to forget,
Sometimes the good is meant for goodbyes.
YOU ARE READING
The Inner Me || Wattys 2017
PoetryA collection of poems written by a lonely girl who lived years back. Highest ranking #58 in poetry
