Why is it that as we grow older, we become colder?
Life changes us, and with that change, we can do no more than keep smoldering.
Our spark, our cinder, it fades.
We're all just playing an ugly game of charades.
Who can have it all, who can be the best?
After all these years is that our important test?
To work tirelessly until we bleed?
Our sweat rolling down planting a weary seed.
The sun rises and falls,
and still, we get older.
Each of us ignoring the crying calls.
While our greed grows bolder,
Our young souls are dying,
while our minds are lying.
Maybe this will be the day,
the day when our minds break free of their cell.
When our spark grows and remembers what to say.
Instead of growing colder, we will be bolder.
We would finally break free of this accursed spell.
Warmth would seep back into our heart,
as we fed our new minds hearth.
Maybe then we wouldn't need to die for our art.
YOU ARE READING
Inside My Head -Short poems
PoetryCome, fellow readers, and writers. Take a seat, pour a cup of your favorite drink, sit back, relax and delve deep into the corners of this poetry collection. Including; Sonnets, Couplets, free verse and short, this book will have a variety to choose...
