A Dead Poem
Focus tomorrow's horizonSorrow means no futureCover my faceWith my guilty hands
It's the season the tress dieThe birds don't sing anymoreThe rivers never come backNature dies out
This tragic figureDestined to hurt never healWhat end can save meWhat good gives me an endNothing is innocent
Nothing is fairI keep wonderingHow did i end up like thisFirst passion
Now is lostA dramatic dead storyI killed all i haveMy sadness isTranslated into madness
I spell meaningless wordsA poem for sorrow and death