The wind tonight
It roars at me
I sit here, silent, silently
and think of morbid things to be
They may be true
they may be fantasy
The rain, it beats my window pain
The darkness lifts my one restraint
The fear that I may live again
Immortal...
Or just the same.
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Author:
Andrew Charles Forrest (
Offline) - Published: January 14th, 2017 13:59
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: Francesco, Resa71
Offline)
Comments5
Great write welcome to MPS
Sad...well written! Everyday I think, "do something different! " Then fear keeps me stagnant and I think, "I'll try again tomorrow. " -- phoenix
A question we all at times ask brings to a finalé this short lament. an appealing read and welcome to this friendly poetry site Lady.
This gave me the goose bumps.
How well written. You couldn't have described this condition / moment better.
Well done.
now that is one helluva fear brother... and of truly phobic proportion... I bet ya feel much better now though having confronted it and pinned it to the page..... enjoyed and muchly Andrew.... N
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