On the mountain
With snow and graves
Marked with swords
There's one without
Any bloodstains on it
Buried beneath is
A stranger I know
Or maybe a story
I just don't
Sitting there with
Winds and howls
I wonder how much
Will my grave be
Worth here?
Will there be a sword
Stained with tears
To mark where I lie
Or just a pen left
On the ground
To tell the mourners
I cared very little.
Endless, I am
By _griffith7
A collection of Poetry. More