Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Chiseled slightly, drained from colour. Bones now just imitations of life, these remains left forgotten. Realisation that it can all end so easily, your existence left insignificant. Known more for it's death than it's eight years of life. Sudden change changes everything, comes unannounced, death forces you to comply, to conform. To make the illusion of your short lived life worth something. Pieced together in a haphazard puzzle, never explained. It's true story left unknown.
0
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Bones
Chiseled slightly, drained from colour. Bones now just imitations of life, these remains left forgotten. Realisation that it can all end so easily, your existence left insignificant. Known more for it's death than it's eight years of life. Sudden change changes everything, comes unannounced, death forces you to comply, to conform. To make the illusion of your short lived life worth something. Pieced together in a haphazard puzzle, never explained. It's true story left unknown.
midaburtons
Written by
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem