A/N: This one isn't a rant about humanity, it's actually a narrative I wrote quite a while ago (Edited over time, of course. Me being happy with my work over a period of time longer than 12 hours? What a ridiculous notion. Anyone who knows me will understand this)
The moon was an angel falling from the skies
The girl was a dying gleam of hope
As the stars sang to her broken heart
To soothe the shards of lies.
The darkness hid her flowing tears
The wind muted her sobs
No one should hear that sound of harm
The sound that filled her ears.
Love had been her light
Her lantern in the dark
But his cold words extinguished the flame
And left her to the night.
As she knelt there on the starlit hill
Her sorrow began to fade
Then the falling angel came down to her
And her weeping was suddenly still.
Her heart was now at peace
Her mind was now at rest
Darkness no longer crushed her soul;
The singing of stars had ceased.
Yes, she is dead.
YOU ARE READING
A book of small poetry
PoetryThis is going to be a book of some poems I've written because I'm new and original. Some will be me ranting about humanity so, I suppose, I apologise if that annoys you.
