Long forgotten lies a dormant past,
Only remembered on the stained glass.
Taking the various measures,
Collecting the ink and the feathers,
I have finally reclaimed my life.
It began with a man who lived life in strife.
How great it began, but soon he would fall,
Looking around, others were too tall.
Now all that remains is the shadows they cast,
Blotting the sun as they would walk past.
Leaving behind a moment of dread,
With multiple moments he'd soon end up dead.
With each passing hour
And each passing day,
His lotus flower
Began to decay.
He only wanted to be accepted,
Instead reject intercepted.
He tried to make friends,
Though they'd never stay.
Each person cut their loose ends,
And weren't there the next day.
One by one, they all went away,
By the end of it all, he felt like a stray.
Little is known about the stains on the glass,
And the empty shell that remained of the past.
YOU ARE READING
The Tomes of Allagan: Vol. 1
PoetryPoetry fills volume 1, with each poem dedicated to one or more of people I hold near and dear to me.
