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i am in the meadow
sitting in a peaceful posture
the weeds are warm
but the sky is dark
grey, black stars
angry coal clouds
it begins to rain
leafs fall from
withering
dead tress
it is pouring tears
i look up into the monster
my face is wet
my clothes are blown
by howling winds
behind me
not too far
is my home
the lights are on
my family watches me
from the windows
my sister is crying
holding the
porcelain doll
with blood red lips
i gave her
when i was well
my mom and dad
are angry
too tired of my crap
to care
anymore
my grandpa
who had fought
in many wars
his foggy blue
eyes are tearing
and tearing at
his old heart
i think they might
want me to come
but it is too late
for i am not well
and they simply are
- by L E A F S fall |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 07/17/2009 |
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Comments (2 Comments)
- dereise - 09/13/2009
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Ahh. I'm thinking it has something to do with a sickness? Perhaps that of metal proprieties, but judging by the reference to the porcelain doll, I'm guessing maybe something Victorian, having to do with historical quarantining.
Anyway, it's a lovely poem. Keep writing, you're quite talented. - Report As Spam
- gothicmasda - 07/18/2009
- thats good dude 5/5
- Report As Spam