It stole it in the dead of night,
Leaving me to suffer.
Torture swept through me, leaving me with little,
Not even my ambition.
My goal was to reach fourteen,
Then fifteen
Now I'm sixteen
And I'm lost.
It stole the one thing that keeps everything moving.
It's not just Slytherins' that are ambitious,
Just everyone
But me.
What to do? What to do?
Everyone has a plan but I.
Why?
Because the beast of the night stole my soul.
YOU ARE READING
2am Poems
PoetryJust started thinking about writing poems so be sure to share ideas and constructive criticism. Not all are written at 2am but you get the idea. I don't know much about poetry but here's me having a go. Sorry for the lack of rhymes. Probably counts...
