Deep in the forest we wander,
To tranquil our hearts that ponder,
And lift our souls that's under.
Leaves underneath our feet,
Cracking in the silence,
Like the melancholy that would break our hearts,
Leaving behind a huge gape in our chests.
Our left over pieces,
There to remain in the wilderness.
For eternity we suffer.
They pay us with pain that lingers.
But like these trees we stand tall.
We'll wait until the fall.
Only then we'll realize,
How much beauty there is left,
in the pain that swallowed us whole.
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Tacenda ➵ poems
PoetryTacenda (Noun) Things better left unsaid, matters to be passed over in silence. - all poems made by chantal horanstan//cinnamoniall-
