My soul, like an ember, dwindles,
Its life burns slowly away,
Hope- all I have left to kindle,
Yet hope dies more each day.
Life, like a river, abrades me,
Pire and pire I become,
I wish just to be free- to see,
Not to go, each day, numb.
YOU ARE READING
Book of Dreams
PoetryThis is going to be a poem collection: some happy, some sad, and other to make you wonder. Each one has been rooted in some kind of dream I had or just a thought bubble I've been stuck on. Please give feedback, it would be the best way for me to imp...
