I am a lonely field adorned
With wilted flowers, leaves forlorn
So cold and dead, their petals torn
And drifting through the winter's storm
How absent the golden sun has been
A year below the horizon
The wind is thick but the air is thin
And death leers with a menacing grin.
The only rain has been my tears
That contain my pain and rampant fears
And the cruel words that have brushed my ears
And the end of my hope that is drawing near
I have tried to irrigate
Myself with words to heal the hate
But it's no good, and it's too late
The roses are dead and this is my fate.
YOU ARE READING
Jars of Stars
RandomThis is a collection of the poems I've typed up on my iPad. I've noticed I enjoy incorporating nature and space into my poetry, so if you dig nature and space read my poems! Some of them are dark, some are brighter, some rhyme and some are just word...
