no title really….but revised, thank you Chie for the wonderful advice.
Sitting alone with death
Who came a-knocking at my door
Just a bit ago
To bring me a package that enclosed something I had lost
Long, long ago
You see, that red ribbon flew out of my hands
And time became irrelevant once again
Because this is not the first
And last time
Death has visited me to bring me that ribbon
That might have put things,
In…out of place
Death’s yielding fingers tie the ribbon around my neck
then gallantly exits
Ready….set…go…
I untie the ribbon and with a snap of the wrist
Its gone…
I gladly watch the ribbon stream through the sky
So I may feel deaths brief touch once again
I like it for it’s use of colourful grammar, however it is to subjegated, and a little tiresomet o read, overall though well done.
oh, and, btw, writing about death does not make you “emo”. It just makes you a wise person for letting your feelings pour out. I write tons of dark poetry, but in real life, I am quite a laid back, fun to be with person. Ignore those who have clouded up minds.
Report Spam/Abuse
death/Who came a-knocking at my door
Death has visited me to bring me that ribbon
Death’s yielding fingers tie the ribbon around my neck
Ready….set…go…
hauntings …. chronic affliction….fear! Praise the Lord
.
oh, and, btw, writing about death does not make you “emo”. It just makes you a wise person for letting your feelings pour out. I write tons of dark poetry, but in real life, I am quite a laid back, fun to be with person. Ignore those who have clouded up minds.
Report Spam/Abuse