Has feathers,
sleeps in the nook,
by a red rock,
and the title of this poem,
made you look
at my ****.

__
To see a photo of my ****:
http://beautyineverything.com/5048983478

It's the first day
Of the start of the end
Of my joys
Just around the bend

Staring at the vase
Lined with black flowers
Starting to wilt
Like collapsing towers

Death is sometimes more...
Beautiful than the life
There is no pain
No more strife

At 5am
I heard the news
Sat in the corner
And cried my heart out

Now all that's left
Is this single flower
That's withering away
You are all that's left

All the memories
I wish I could leave
All that reminds me
Is this black rose.... Dying

I sit in my room thinking,
about the past pain.
They don't even have a clue about things I have seen.
Life isn't sweet, nor is it bitter.
Its just a *****.

with life's first breath

the newly born

cries out in fear

for what could be


and at the end


with life's last breath

the dying man

goes out in fear

for what could be