FA+
Shop
214
Views
Views
2
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Poetry / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 65
File Size 15.9 kB
Report this content
More from Patcher
Listed in Folders
Here's to a shit birthday.
Raw, unpolished poetry about fucking depression and shit. Will probably scrap.
Raw, unpolished poetry about fucking depression and shit. Will probably scrap.
oOo
It's a November dream,
waiting for the mornings
when the snow will drape across the plains:
A silver sheen.
Across this sea of winter memories,
the sun will blind the birds above;
they've lost their sense of direction (by now)
And all I want to do,
is to climb this mountain,
feel its chill between my fingers,
before it caves in.
Then I'll sink
be part of all the beauty of the world
a bittersweet lie of Spring.
Then the darkness falls;
The days grow shorter still,
for no such dreams come true,
washed away in quiet rain.
The blanket that drapes itself across the buildings,
slowly trickles down the walls to blackened frost,
and all the sorrow goes aloft and soars across the sky.
The sun blacks out,
all while waiting for a November dream,
when the snow will drape across the roads,
and cause catastrophes.
And then the sea
will turn to ice,
and we realise we can walk on water,
a brittle bridge before it crumbles,
underneath our feet.
All I want,
is to crawl across the fjords and find respite
in memories of homes that never were,
feel the warmth betwixt my fingers
as the ice breaks.
Then I'll fall
into the depths of the earth,
until at last it slowly closes in,
around me,
Hopefully then
I will be gone.
The darkness falls,
the days grow shorter still,
and all the dreams are washed away by the sun
that's never there (I'll never get to see)
The blanket that drapes itself across the buildings
of the world I wish I never saw
now modeled in white.
For all my sorrows are with wings,
all dreams as they soar across the twilight sky.
oOo
Category Poetry / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 65px
File Size 15.9 kB
Comments