A piece of life,
once so pure.
This natural change,
that forces extinction.
Falling from above,
upon a world so black and charred.
This lifeless symbol,
of the destruction transpiring.
Moving along the burning mountains,
the world begins to fall.
This spec of ash so small,
Tells a story of death.
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Author:
Alfred Lord Tennyson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 10th, 2019 08:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
Offline)
Comments1
i loooooooved the last stanza 🙂
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