Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
Lost are we,
in this infinite abyss.
An idea in our heads,
of what is pure bliss.
Lost are we,
in this complex maze,
losing ourselves,
just to feel that praise.
Lost are we,
doing what we are told,
reaching for that goal,
until we turn cold.
Lost are we,
as we die here all alone,
dreams are forgotten,
and never written in stone.
MST
Written by
MST  Leipzig
(Leipzig)   
441
   Theia Gwen and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems