Sent away to be the best,
Like all the others.
Is it done out of love or because you are the child?
Your joy is knowing you can do something with it.
Your joy is your friends.
But something extraordinary,
An educator,
Who cares. Who tries. Who creates enjoyment. Who is an inspiration.
He leaks something about his years.
Something fascinating.
The Dead Poets Society.
But you and your companions bring it back to life.
Created within.
Created on your own.
It is yours alone.
Which makes it the most.
But at times, our precious flames cannot be hidden in the plain dark.
When found they can be disheartened, and easily smothered.
Destroyed forever, and slowly fade even from within us.
But we can make our dreams last forever, as sure and lasting as the twist of our sphere.
Even though we may clench them forever, they can be smothered.
Unheard, choked so as not to be disturbed.
It all became too much.
You said you were trapped.
But all you saw was your burden.
Could you have detached yourself entirely?
Maybe not. Maybe so.
But you made your choice.
And we are left.
You abandoned us alive.
We wish it'd been otherwise. We wish you were here. We wish you'd heard us tell you, you were the ultimate. To each of us.
We will forever listen to your silence.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Poetry~Poems~They're not just words on paper, they express feelings right to you~Beautiful Word Portraits~Mine, and others~ For my best poems, read the my newest ones. (The ones toward the bottom of the list)
