The Wanderer
While the wind whispers softly
and wildly through the trees,
shadows dance in dark romance,
As they spread like a disease.
Somewhere deep in the distance,
a heavy voice can be heard.
A scorching song drones on and on
The careless ramblings of the disturbed.
While he wanders aimlessly
up and Down The corridor,
a mind in need of help indeed
From the voices of the scorned.
Some are screaming, some are chanting
Some are even positive.
All are waiting,While debating,
on just what advice to give.
The scalding silence that surrounds him
Goes unnoticed, not by choice
Because to him, life is grim
He’s never not without a voice.
In his head he hears them all the time
Although he lives alone
While the wind whispers swiftly
On and on the voices drone
Maybe someday he’ll find peace
But it will come with a price
The price is death, and when it comes
The final silence will be nice.
Until then, he wanders...
D.R.L.
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.
