Jan 3
You've gotten strange, World.
You've gotten cold and alone.
I see your presence near solitary bus stops,
Your dying spirit lingers by beggers and traffic jams.
You had so much potential!
Full of zest,
Fueled by the ambitions of the people you bled for.
The people born of your earth,
Built from your dust and grit.
Nutured under billions of fireflies,
Cradled by gentle touches.
But here you stand, alone.
What have you become?
In the early hours of the morning,
When magpies call, I'll be there waiting for you.
Meet me in the park, that crackled bench,
You'll float through the icy air,
And whisper in my hair,
"I see you,"
"It's been too long since we talked."
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
