PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

How often we are betrayed

by the ones we love,

left behind in the snow,

with nothing left but ourselves,

Can no longer keep a happy face,

sadness is not sadness it is normal

to feel nothing but nothing,

to want nothing but to sleep,

the fire subsides and the ashes paint

the ground; the smoke is still there,

salvaging only a corpse, which breathes

in the fumes of forgotten dreams,

To maintain the slow decompostion,

staving off disease; a mind that wants

to not want, pushing back the waves

or to drown willingly, caught in thoughts,

which never end.

Having loved and been killed by it,

out of the grave with apathetic hate,

trying not to try again,

only to be stabbed by sentiment,

to be betrayed by whats seems

right.