| |
Ashes ashes, burnt out memories,
grey shards of bone amidst the dust.
Back to the earth, we are called back home,
as each minute and second upon us are thrust.
Crimson life no longer flows,
briny tears shed no more.
Dreams of yesteryear shattered,
our shackles that bind are on the floor.
Life isn't what it presents itself,
it's never what it seems.
Our reality and reason for being,
is in reality someone else's dream.
So run and hide or bide your time,
life is the crystal upon the cup.
Seek the answers, know the truth,
before your dreamer wakes up.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|