The seasons come and pass by you and me Hoping you would turn and run back directly But seeing you grow more and more dim I decided to be able to love you is a dream The dancing wind left the leaves scattered As I looked at you, my heart adored Silently, I sneaked small glances I looked for you even in distant places The sentence of spring is bright yet pale But your smile is lighting up the dale And I was there waiting for colors red and blue While I sat, painting pretty little pictures of you
To the one who never noticed Is it me or will it go unpunished? The mixing hues of gray and white As I painted your fading blithe Your eyes are sad yet your smile is bright I stared at you hoping prayers come to light You noticed, yet you didn't comprehend I was left with none being said As I sat by the windowsill of mediocrity I remembered the times I stood by idly Then I thought about the times I looked at the view I got my pen and started painting pretty little pictures of you
Then time became my immediate answer I fell beneath the chains of hurtful slumber Yanked the wheel before hitting the tower I lost myself as I sunk deep under I tried to find the happiness within But darkness has swallowed what is not grim I tried to make sense of this useless dream Where I was living out that conscious scheme And suddenly, the sky is painted blue I looked around and realized the world is anew In wonder, I got my set and started drinking the view And soon, I am painting pretty little pictures of you
But then, beautiful things started to end I woke up to the reality of this hell-send I looked and saw the horrifying truth That I have no time left but sickness' fruit And what do people do when their breath is counted? They write their souls in papers unprinted As I placed the final dot on the letters last I thought of something that is really a must I took the last file I could find Tucked in those little pieces I will leave behind Hoping you would find this before I depart the world askew Before my breath runs out and my time is due I hope you find out that I have loved true All the time, remember me painting pretty little pictures of you
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That was sad. Even I was affected by my own poem. Fifteen-year-old me, what are you thinking?
This is a poem I didn't know I wrote but it's here.
So what do you think? Comment below. :)
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