he was only a child,
innocent in the face of death.
history repeats,
the boy soon realized.
he wished he'd known his legacy all along,
so he'd tell his story for all to repeat;
eyes so wide,
skin so pale,
expectant feelings
that tingled all through his fingers.
and death didn't feel guilty when he grasped a cold hand to his,
but soon destiny intervened
and held out his hand,
and encouraged hope.
the boy hoped he'd known death was a close friend,
so he would have done things differently,
and perhaps not blown hopeless wishes on dandelions,
and instead looked at the world in truth,
a world where the horizon is only the beginning.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Is this any good? :/
YOU ARE READING
drown the stars
Poetry❝ just like relativity, we are only a theory ❞ • amateur writings of golden poetry • [cover by @antigravitea]
