This thing we built,
Made from Death and Broken Dreams,
I suppose it was doomed from the start,
But I never expected it to carry you away from me,
Across the boiling sea,
As you sail away in your black ship,
Eyes closed for good,
It was supposed to carry me with you,
But it took off too soon,
And I'm left here with a bleeding heart,
Wondering if you're enjoying the Next Life.
Jan 8, 2025
Jan 8, 2025 at 10:05 PM UTC
This thing we built,
Made from Death and Broken Dreams,
I suppose it was doomed from the start,
But I never expected it to carry you away from me,
Across the boiling sea,
As you sail away in your black ship,
Eyes closed for good,
It was supposed to carry me with you,
But it took off too soon,
And I'm left here with a bleeding heart,
Wondering if you're enjoying the Next Life.
Request permission to use this poem