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elizabeth
Poems
Mar 2017
The Wasteland
No thing grows,
No bird flies.
Flowers- they shrivel;
Die in my mind.
Dark as night,
Quiet like fear.
Terrible as monsters;
All pain resides here.
Warmth isn't found,
Light is scarce.
Silence stabs ears
Like a dagger's pierce.
The toxic air,
The deadly sand.
You haven't guessed?
**I am the wasteland.
March 25, 2017.
Rhyme scheme: second and last line end rhyme. Stanza one and three: near-rhyme. Stanza two and four: rhyme.
#depressing
#suicide
#sad
#pain
#death
#die
#flowers
#darkness
#trauma
#wastaland
Written by
elizabeth
18/F/USA
(18/F/USA)
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