Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
*Some a flowing field of corn some a barren plate they die if they are ever born falls quietly to their fate! There's little in your hand to choose not much that you can do surely isn't a fun to lose knowing so fast they grew! What was once the face's grace boastful glory of crown vanish without leaving a trace black or white or brown! Know the truth bare and harsh whatever color we dye from sapling to the tallest grass is destined to wane and die!*
0
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
What Was Once Boasted
*Some a flowing field of corn some a barren plate they die if they are ever born falls quietly to their fate! There's little in your hand to choose not much that you can do surely isn't a fun to lose knowing so fast they grew! What was once the face's grace boastful glory of crown vanish without leaving a trace black or white or brown! Know the truth bare and harsh whatever color we dye from sapling to the tallest grass is destined to wane and die!*
pradip-chattopadhyay
Written by
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem