| The poet
wrote his life on note his pen stroke as his mind spoke but ideas were unfound to describe a life profound and words were not enough to give his tale a draft. The poet tried but often cried for words were cold to impart wisdom of the old the heart willed but the mind killed every word and line that endured through time. The poet did bleed for failure of a great deed he indeed cried for hesitance to try cowardice it would seem for his lament to be seen yet hope was lost and saw its great cost. The poet lived a life in gloom his heart was cut by the sword of doom weak was his will to control destiny’s wheel for what was done could not be undone. The poet’s tale has much to unveil for life he chose has need to disclose more of his story than that of a memory it is a fact that sealed his luck. Would there be moment after his torment? Would there be a path to tread after the wrath? Would there be tomorrow for him to borrow? and would there be life after his strife? |
| By : Genevieve |