5
I feel hopeless
lost in this world
a mess
trapped in this void.
Everything I've done
everything I did
taken for granted and gone
only used as their greedy deeds.
Help me
save my soul
a place to be
where there's hope.
Not in this
dark place and all alone
for I no longer wish
to be anyone's joke.
The light
is taken away
by monsters at night
without anything to say.
Please help me
hold my hand
set me free
let me enter your holy land.
Crimson lines
never-ending sorrows
choking on metal vines
dying in the morrows.
Help me,
for I am no longer living,
I kneel,
with my sorrows and suffering.
-A-
YOU ARE READING
Catoptric Tristesse
Poetry"When you write from the heart, They are your work of art. Whatever pattern, You choose to do it doesn't matter. The pen and your paper are your instruments, That would create brilliance." catoptric tristesse: (n.) "the sadness that you'll never...
