A pure lifeA Poem by writtenjoe
My petals they fall upon the ground.
Weak and wilted without a sound. Unable to express the way I feel. I am a living thing, I am real. The cold it comes, it comes so fast. I know any day could be my last. The days go by and I stand and wait. I'm crooked, I'm dry, its to late. The sun goes out and the wind comes in. I blow away and leave this world without sin.. © 2014 writtenjoe |
StatsAuthor
writtenjoeMAAboutI enjoy horror, sci-fi, dark poetry, and some fantasy. I support the indie world, but I do like the mainstream flip of things as well. I read, I write, I watch a lot of horror. more..Writing
|
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing