Depression, Dark, Dead (Poems by Dark_Shadow000)

Poem 3: Barely A Moan

Lay down the truths of secrets bare,

Shadowed by the midnight's glare, 

Engulfed by such a dreary air, 

And it lays blanketed not, but bare. 

Over dry, green, twisted grass,

Rougher than the worn pale path. 

He is galloping from hated past,

Into a future with truth to last. 

But the future she is galloping to,

Is not a happy one, but blue. 

The joys to be found are rather few. 

And unfortunately, the pain is true. 

His solum figure stands alone,

Under the stars so brightly shone. 

In a whisper; barely a moan,

A faint cry for help is heard in sad tone. 

He begs and pleads and longs and cries. 

He hopes some soul will see the lies. 

But no one sees and then he sighs. 

So with a long strand of rope, he peacefully dies. 

Hanging and dangling from a dead tree,

It is now one hears him plea. 

But it is too late as you can see. 

However, don't worry, for he is free. 

                       Dark_Shadow000