The boy who once scored the winning touchdown
flinches at the sight of an airborne ball,
the ballerina who once balanced on pointe
can't dance without a stumble or fall.
The five year old with no fear of the world
now hides behind his shadow,
the writer who wrote with passion and pride
now can only reach words that are hollow.
We used to hold lights for those trailing behind,
we used to leave our mark;
now the candles were dropped, the flames burned out-
We all are left in the dark.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Poison
PoetryMy poems from when I just felt the urge to write. Just trying to push out my emotions and hopefully helping you cope with yours <3. All poems are my own please don't repub but enjoy
