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"youraelf" poems
Fading sunlight in the horizon Falling leaves in breezy autumn While nature paves way for hope I wish this self to be lost and forgotten Similar to tides, uncontrolled and heightened A lone wolf yowling at her sight Adjoined by the constant urge to be isolated Fervent to cut loose the rope of gloom Like a lost traveler in search of dwelling A barren land thirsty for rain Tired of this skin and mind To devastation this heart is intertwined What is lost darkens my soul Your voice and memories cut deep through Your brown hair blowing in wind Hazel eyes sparkling in the sun Echoes of your footsteps, Deepness of your voice Still surrounded by your existence Harmed and scarred, I want to leave Fragile lives and untamed hearts Filled with fiery of desert storm I want to run, away from your hue Before I turn into an emotional massacre Did I really deserve? Did you really want? Let the leaves of our memory fall And the blossoming florets wilt Clinging to hope with intemperate self Permit yourself to grow vines by own Ashen and burnt, bury us in ground Let youraelf grow either as roses or thorns Amongst all this I realize what Rumi said Nostalgia is a powerful witch indeed.
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Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 6:42 AM UTC
Rantings996
TACKLE THE DEAD
Fading sunlight in the horizon Falling leaves in breezy autumn While nature paves way for hope I wish this self to be lost and forgotten Similar to tides, uncontrolled and heightened A lone wolf yowling at her sight Adjoined by the constant urge to be isolated Fervent to cut loose the rope of gloom Like a lost traveler in search of dwelling A barren land thirsty for rain Tired of this skin and mind To devastation this heart is intertwined What is lost darkens my soul Your voice and memories cut deep through Your brown hair blowing in wind Hazel eyes sparkling in the sun Echoes of your footsteps, Deepness of your voice Still surrounded by your existence Harmed and scarred, I want to leave Fragile lives and untamed hearts Filled with fiery of desert storm I want to run, away from your hue Before I turn into an emotional massacre Did I really deserve? Did you really want? Let the leaves of our memory fall And the blossoming florets wilt Clinging to hope with intemperate self Permit yourself to grow vines by own Ashen and burnt, bury us in ground Let youraelf grow either as roses or thorns Amongst all this I realize what Rumi said Nostalgia is a powerful witch indeed.
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