This is a poem that I just wrote tonight about my first love. Tell me what you think, guys. I think it's really good.
Inspiration is over-rated
When my willowing heart
Is turning as black
As the ashes composing
Our shredded romance
That fell to the ground
That sweet summer night,
That stopped beating and died.
The ashes are slipping
Through our bloody fingers
And time is precious.
Can we make this right?
Can we repair our burden?
We could make things
How they used to be.
Crawl into memories,
Stay clinging to yesterday
As the mockingbird
Sings sweet serenades.
Kisses of death
Can't stop us now-
We already died
That sweet summer night.
And if you hide behind your mask,
Our future can never be our past.
2007-01-08
19:07:34
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9 answers
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asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities
Also, I know one cant "repair" its burden, it's kind of something you need to either be Ryan or I to understand. It's not an error, I meant for that to be there.
2007-01-08
19:16:58 ·
update #1