Another

a poem.

Lost is his sense of pride,
for his words have fallen somewhat short.
No longer are there echoes,
now just everlasting silence.
Broken are the branches,
hollow is the tree.
Voiceless are the songbirds,
rootless and shivering.
Lost is his sense of pride,
for nothing seems to matter anymore.
No longer are there echoes,
just that numbing voice inside his head.

Reviews

[Jemma]

Wow.
I found that piece of writting powerful.
My fave line was
"Broken are the branches,
hollow is the tree."
I don't know why but that just spoke to me.
As I read it seemed like "he" was losing himself.
Although it also seemed there wasn't much left to lose.