Of Being Sad

Part of this poem is a found poem. A couple of lines are from a twenty one pilots song.

On the eve of a day that's forgotten and fake,

the trees await; the clouds anticipate,

the start of a day when we put on our face,

the mask that doesn't show any trace, 

of being sad.

Author's Note

This was the first poem I ever put together.

Reviews

[Norrin Shearer]

It's amazing how much emotion you convey with so few words.

[Byron]

Simple, relatable, beautiful