Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2013
Few are the days allotted us
On youth's resplendent heights
For soon we fall, and fall we must
From innocence, to hellish plights

From morn to noon I fell,
Alas! From noon to dewy eve
  And still do I perceive
Descent towards stygian abyss;
                             I grieve
For days bygone and edifice which,
   with Daedalic splendor
I wrought in primal hours
   To this past, I now surrender

With childhood's cherub wings thus shorn
From Avernus cold, my prayers are Bourne
With broken lips, towards skies azure
The myriad gods I do implore

Uplift this loathsome imitation!
Coal-eyed creature of negation
Wont to build a heaven in hell
This torpid fate I must repel!
Childhood: a paradise lost, who's heights we strive, in vain, to attain once more, or a hell which, throughout out lives, we feebly attempt to correct.
Bartholomew maximillian olash
Written by
Bartholomew maximillian olash  Louisville, ky
(Louisville, ky)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems