I've noticed a trend.
Oh how flirtatious I have
Become towards despair.
How easy I can bed my pen
To paper and write of things
That torment me.
Perhaps it's the ease of it
That draws me towards
The melancholic.
To say we are not easily
Tricked into the lows
More than the highs,
Is the same as shouting
"Ha! You missed!",
As the white cloth
That clothes you becomes
A darkened red.
The birds sing in beautiful chorus.
The evening is warm and inviting.
The breeze is slow, almost still.
A while has passed since
Reality has seduced its way
Into my brain.
I had forgotten how beautiful it's figure was.
Time will pass however,
As is it's duty,
And I will awaken with no
Foreground memory of this.
So it's with my remaining clear conscious
That I write this down.
A memento to the me when dawn breaks.
Open your cage,
And let your bird sing,
Friend.
YOU ARE READING
Poems From My Soul
Poetry(ALL ORIGINAL WORK) Some miscellaneous poetry I have written in the past, and some which I will post in the future. WARNING: TW for depression, mental health, suicidal thoughts
