~
Seated alone in a cold, dark, world,
A forgotten spirit that has just dwelled.
A forgotten voice, a forgotten smile,
A forgotten, lonely, homeless child.
A forgotten face, in a forgotten place,
A forgotten heartbeat with with forgotten pace.
A forgotten personality; whether kind or vain,
A forgotten background whether with fame or shame.
A forgotten lifestyle with unbearable pain,
Forgotten feelings thought to be just a game.
This all makes up a forgotten soul,
Than no one in this world will ever know.
~
There's quite a few views of what this piece is about, if I'm being honest. But I'll let you figure your interpretation out on your own :) .
YOU ARE READING
P.S.
Şiir"Not all Art has to be art. Some Art is simply the Art of writing." ~ T. Durand
