Sad Song the Third

I lie in my cold nest--

A grey moth at rest,

and blend into the rest of the world.

My heart is the swirl

and beat of the mourner's drums.

She reached out to fly--

A hand towards the sky,

and grabbed hold of the concrete.

A thousand other feet

had crossed that now-bloody pavement.

Now the policemen sigh--

and sadly wonder why

she pushed away from life.

She was such a happy wife

and so beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful.

Such a tragic story--

She never had a worry,

Or so it always appeared.

But she was filled with fears,

and the people weep now; so tragic...

So tragic.

So beautiful.

So young.

So sad.

She had

everything to live for.

Now she's opened up her door

to something, somewhere else.

Hopefully not hell.

Farewell.

Farewell.

Farewell.

The End

8 comments about this poem Feed