Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2020
Swallowed up by the grass
of a thousand mistakes.
From the trees fall the leaves,
that are the sum of my failures.

The sun and wind chip away
at what's left of my skin.
While the rocks look upon me,
in sorrowful scorn.

The sword is laid down.
My spirit is done fighting.
Then my last breath escapes
at the cry of a dove.
Written by
Stephen S
91
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems