The man of peace lays in pieces
A shard thrust into his arm
The glint of blood and wine
Dripping down the fine table cloth
As the words trickling out of his mouth scream
Please, I wish you to abscond
My beautiful summer bloom
For if you stay for winter
It will be your very doom
The peace-bringing man succumbs
His words twined mildly with fate
Who disinterestedly casts them off;
The characters of this game
Out and in a hollow tree stump
A little boy cries
His daddy passed away, he says
His dear old daddy died
Even pines wither away
Even people will decay
You may even ask yourself
I
f you should die today
YOU ARE READING
This is[n't] it
Poetry2021 note- This is more of an archive of old poetry now =) I like poetry. This is my first time doing something public, if not anonymously. I appreciate feedback, as long as it's constructive criticism. Any tips for getting a vague feeling out onto...
![This is[n't] it](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/163423836-64-k6fbd2d.jpg)