Here is the girl, weeping.
Here is the boy, sleeping.
She waits, waits for him to wake.
No dash of cold water nor vigorous shake
Shall wake the boy.
She has waited like this for many a day,
Withering, withering away.
Her hair is white,
Yet the boy still sleeps tight.
She cannot wait anymore.
Up she stands
And with wrinkled hands,
Brushes away the despair and strife,
And away from Life,
She follows the boy.
The boy she knew to be dead.
He takes her hand and she is lead,
Through a gate.
And so ends the wait,
The wait of those who can’t accept,
Death of loved ones. And yet….
All the years spent by his side,
Al the years she cried,
Had helped her in what was to come. And she knew there would still be some. Some grief, some pain. For those who would be
Put through it again.
A/N I found this while I was bored and browsing through some of my old word documents, so it's quite different to what I usually publish. But still, I hope you enjoy!
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Monsters
Poetry"A bunch of poems about mental illness" didn't sound great as a title, but that's basically what this is. This is my first book and I honestly just wrote these in my notes app, went "Screw it," and posted them. If these don't correlate to specific e...
