The harbinger of doom,
Comes in with his scythe,
His demeanor in sight,
He won't leave until I'm gloom.
His every movement's zoom,
Along with my heart,
Making my confidence depart,
That leaves me in a dark room.
His sharp strikes resume,
Stabbing me with words,
All the hurt stirred,
And all the light entomb.
My pride they deplume,
Just because of one crime,
And that is homework not passed on time,
Now I know how it feels to be exhume.
* * * * *
Contest Entry: write a poem dramatizing a small event.
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Moon Child | Ongoing
Poetry"Home isn't always four walls. Sometimes it's one warm embrace And two people's heartbeats as one. " - Moon Child (StarHues) Collection of poems mostly tackling about falling in love with someone out of your reach. Musings about the pain of unrequit...
