Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nathan Jun 2020
Every flower picked by hand
Presented to you by a silver stand
Feeling so deep and bright as gold
Have yet to ripen yet to fold

Needles can heal and medicine ****
A flip of a coin can be its seal
For better or worse for normal yet mad
A lad's fall is timid yet so sad

Like a sun so bright your eyes to him
And so enthralled by giving in
A promise made soon old became
For seven years labor are now to his name.
Nathan Jun 2020
Deep down below the veil
Through oceans deep and lands of hail
Lay there I, a god of old
Feet stood deep in the ocean's cold

A god of time I am to thee
For old I am and gray to see
A god of naught I am to me
For lost I at time's decree

Down a rabbit hole I go
As I am lost and full of awe
Taketh there thine heart to me
For without you I'm blind to see
Nathan Mar 2021
Where the light shines the dark will follow
And when the children cry the roses wilt
If the road of silk was not of sorrow
How would kindness still exist

Where the white wolf dawn's the black will follow
On the battlefield, the victor weeps
Still, after the war, a dove will follow
Yes, the willow of peace.

Hear me now my winged child
For the story still persists
Nature's beauty you must nurture
But don't deny a man his feast
I wrote this after a long while of not being able to complete my work. hope this brings the muse back
Nathan Jun 2020
A lifetime has passed, and waves have collapsed
   But you are still there, with my heart in your care
The winds blew about on our cold urchin spout
   Although,
         you still stand, with my heart in your hand.
    And the cut, that was made from the rage
       The rage, that caused your hand to grit
Grit And clench
  On a heart that only bled,
     Cared
But no matter the cut because the love that we share
  The love that I gave was
    Deeper?
Yes, deeper then the cuts on our tie and stronger
    Worth it?
  Stronger then our differences
    We're they?
They are.

For my heat to your cold will melt this bout and mold it the right way.
  What right way?
The way that things were.
  Although, were the things,
       gone
          are they not?
Yes.
     Goodbye, Love.
This one is a little different from what I usually write so I'd be glad if you could give me pointers :)
Nathan Jun 2020
Woven tight the hands of fate
You or me can both relate
For trodden hearts and heavy fumes
Have carried us onto these tunes

I stand there still and wait for nigh
Where hands are held and hearts do cry
In nightly talks till break of dawn
We think of naught and dusk adjourns

Talking hearts and reddened souls
Have carried us up here once more
For heavy hearts and tangled hands
Are opposites O' grant me faith

Woven tight our hands of ice
A broken seal of fate's disguise
The steady flow of life in vein
For a skip of beat had touched our pain.

— The End —