Silent sighs of Earth
can be heard if one listens carefully
telling old mother is tired.
Yesterday's yawn of the fleeting second
echoes dreams and nightmares to the sleeping
foretelling that one has to wake up before tomorrow.
Torn by the yesterday's wound
Numb to the present one
Future?
Do prisoners of autumn have those luxuries?
Today I mourned upon the fall of my brothers
Delay I am , a mere rumbling upon the call of dry weathers
YOU ARE READING
Poetry from a Naive Quill
PoetryMusings of a teen who has a soul of a dead poet. I know that I am not a good poet yet but I want to tell my works to others. So here it is. @ALCRUX IS ME. The cover is made by @toxicpot14. She is amazing. The pics used aren't mine nor I have taken p...
