Age
In times own outcast,
memories that scorn,
from tears that tasted of blood,
and lives forever torn.
Wanting to forget,
whats held inside,
because everything becomes,
what has always lied.
And then it waits,
for its chance to attack,
hitting you with everything,
that goodness lacks.
A endless gasp,
breathless and cold,
you suddenly realize,
yes...you are old.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.