May 2016
What's better than planting a seed?
And then watching it grow?
I think nothing
But it's funny how fate likes to go.
It wasn't even fate, instead
It was death herself.
Death wrapped in flesh,
Thinking I can save a living life.
Now it's all a dream,
And instead of a plant
All we have are weeds.
And then watching it grow?
I think nothing
But it's funny how fate likes to go.
It wasn't even fate, instead
It was death herself.
Death wrapped in flesh,
Thinking I can save a living life.
Now it's all a dream,
And instead of a plant
All we have are weeds.
"Still other seeds fell on fertile soil, and they produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted"
(Ohio)
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
