Time To Go: A Poetry Collection

The City Of My Soul

Words carved out on the walls of my buildings,

Masterpieces painted in my colored blood,

Columns lying on the ground, made of slices of my heart,

You can clean all of this up, I don't mind.

In these buildings, muses found sanctuary,

Those pictures were the next chapter of my story,

The columns held up the infinite sky that's now falling,

The hurricane will wipe it all off.

You might as well let it all burn

And watch it with a smirk on your face.

But this is the city of my soul, and it'll hurt.

It stands long empty, for I haven't built it for years.

Now shadows are splattered around

And moss grows over the cold stones,

But no, don't destroy it yet.

One day, I'll write again.