Thursday 7 March 2013

Open Question: What do you think of this poem?

The silence slithers, hiding
In the dark crevices of thought
I hear whispers in the shadows
And lie, waiting as time rots

You didn’t heed my call, young one
As you slipped into your dreams
And floated into golden bliss,
Surreal, until you screamed

My vision blurs, blinded
As this tortured agony
Grips my weakened, ghostly soul
Steadily, it atrophies

Goodbye, my innocent saint,
And as you wither away
I yearn for you to know I grieve,
But I mourn in silence today.


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