God, forbid
For my mountains are snow,
And in the trenches hide,
Lines of scarlet, ever delicately
Spread
Will skin ever melt,
will they ever know?
What happened under the stars,
When the comets died
God forbid,
What the snow might hide.
Put me under the golden sun,
And leave me to dry
Cold is the frost
In this place,
Where the stars won't dance
And no goodwill may
Remain hidden under skin
God forbid,
Will the snow forever stay?
-Scott
YOU ARE READING
Why the stars won't dance anymore
PoetryA collection of poems, written by an 18 year old guy. He has no right to be called a poet, but perhaps, he knew, nothing will ever say less, or more, all at the same time.
