Did someone stand here once before?
How did this oak tree come to be?
What was this land if not a store?
Are there yet graves I cannot see?
...
I ask the dust beneath my feet
If it had ever once held life
Implore the marsh to please reveal
If this was once a place of strife
...
I've questions with no answers
Countless thoughts without a point
Though my body loves the present
In my mind there's a disjoint
...
And no cards will ever speak
They cannot say what is to come
Though stars twinkle and they shine
About the future they stay mum
...
Will someone stand here in this spot?
How will this giant oak tree die?
What day will this store open last?
Is this where I will say goodbye?
YOU ARE READING
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)
