Living with the Trees

a simple poem about death.

 

 

The cool air blows my hair across my face

I’m standing on a rock,

Looking at the beautiful water in front of me

I no longer want to stand in the wind

I want to be the wind,

No more breathing, no more living

I could live in the trees

There wouldn’t be anymore pain

I take a deep breath

My death must happen now

It must not wait any longer

The sun sets, the wind still blows.

I take out a gun, aim it at my head.

Before I can change my mind, I pull the trigger.

My soul escapes, and fly’s in the wind

While my body falls into the river and floats upstream,

My dream comes true,

I’m flying in the wind,

                                           And living in the Trees

Author's Note

I don't like poems so I'm not too good at writing them.

Reviews

[Marina]

You like writing about death, eh?

I do too. Except my poems aren't as good as yours and I never found one good enough to post.
Fantastic correlation between death and nature. I would have guessed it would have been about life, more than death.

You did a great job of proving otherwise.

Awsome. Keep writing!

XxStaySweet,
Rina