Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
No matter how bright the sunlight is,
and no matter how much I love it,
he cannot save me from destruction,
self destruction...
words at their finest still hurt...
so I will wilt away,
decay,
and nobody will ever find me.
It may be difficult
For a flower to bloom
But it withers
In a little while

When the last drop of youth
Has been sipped
And we become nothing
But struggling, boring adults—

You'll look back
At this moment
And wonder if you
Bloomed well

Because nothing
Hurts more
Than realizing
That you are

Just a wilted flower
From the start

Never bloomed
Never blossomed
An unfolded flower—
From the very beginning
JA Perkins May 18
Day after day, I rivel.
Who knows for how long?
Reduced to mere survival
screaming it’s selfish undertone.
Aspiration is long forgotten
If I live, to what avail?
Despair darkens my demeanor
Time and time again, I fail.
Compassion is now contended;
Making less sense than it did before
And those who are offended
break the hinges off my door.
Disappointment - my adornment
as if I’m capable of more..
If only they knew the torment
that is relentless at my core.  
Wisdom only mocks me.
She dances around my doom
singing, “Here lies a foolish boy
who followed freedom to his tomb.”
Now I’m cast to raging seas;
A boat beaten by an angry wave;
unanswered cries like pleas
from crows that cry above my grave.

Tell me, Lord.. can these dry bones live?

Ah, Lord, You know.
But I am left to wonder why
every attempt to be the hero
turns to ashes when I die.
All this foolishness will follow
as I lay down and return to dust
and time is sure to swallow
all these fallacies I trust.
A far cry by: Dry Bones
Silently,
Slowly,
Gracefully,
She blossomed,
Unfolding her beauty,
Petal by petal,
A perfect rose,
Sweet and  fragile,
Caressed by innocence.
He came into her room one night,
Her own peer,
He violated her,
Took away her purity,
Crushed her trust,self respect and joy,
With his greed,lust and evil intentions.
I could see her dark rimmed eyes, sad and haunted,
Now a tattered rose.
19/2/2020
I sometimes see you,
Your face lingers in my mind,
Eyes of leaves and snow,
Your colors haunt my pale heart,
I think I miss the autumn.
I saw your eyes
and it was like they were the sun
shining through with autumn gold
you were beautiful
-
but now
all I see
is rotting leaves
leo arden Aug 2019
dear                  ,

exalt your stature

as the prided flower

in this field

of the wilted.
this is for you.
JosilinP Aug 2019
homegrown and beautiful
wanderer through the night
her lack of sunlight
pedals become dull
creatures of disturbance
they want to eat
the beauty for their service
homegrown and beautiful
never seen the rain
beauty never knew
the wonders of drugs
creatures promised her fun
homegrown and wilting
beauty damaged
wonder the night
Brice Katherine Jul 2019
When petals of a wilting rose are plucked
Do not be surprised when all that remains
Are thorns
Next page