the page is turned, a fresh new start deep purple scars inside her heart what does it mean, where will she turn absence merely makes her yearn for what was once, but never more to walk the earth, in pools of war a lone dog barks, somewhere in the night the orphaned child cries out in fright the trees drip blood, the season turns another poet by society spurned can a tree outgrow a pot or will the moth survive to dwell among the living dead withered burned out expired why bother wasting time...Birth sign: Leo
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Bedwyr Mclean.