(written on September 12 2019)
In the gloomy night,
In the shadows of the moon,
The dark souls slithered,
Round and round,
Collecting wishes from the dead old ones.
Dead old mourning flowers littered the ground,
With graceful words upon huge boulders,
Each one bigger than the last.
But the only living soul stood upon a rosy grave,
Wiping his tears away,
A little boy with a fresh red rose in his little hands.
He mourned over his dead old mother's grave,
He stood all alone,
All his life,
Until his very last tears.
-Alana Gagieva
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Grimoire Of Poems
Short StorySo this was more for myself than anything to put together for fun. But I have a deep route in writing poems when I'm bored and was a big Edgar Allan Poe fan in middle school. I think that says enought, most of these are sad and some will have trigge...
