I do not know what binds me here
it is not love, it is not fear.
To who am i indebted to?
The crow?
The chair?
Lost love for you?
I do not know what i'm to do
am i to kill, or cry for you?
Am i to sit, and waste, and stare
and wait for death to draw me near?
My body's driven with despair
my heart is now beyond repair,
my face now painted like a clown
my eyes hard set forever now.
Once i am done, will you be there?
To melt my solid heart and stare
and wipe the scars up off my face
for you in heaven is my place.
Author notes
My interpretation of the crow we are not shown.
A contest entry
- The Crow by February Moon.
600 points, ended March 13, 2007, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This is an okay poem. I like the emotion behind it, but the way it is worded just doesn't do it for me. I also feel that you could improve it by improving the grammar. Best of luck in my contest, and thank you for entering.
Chelsea
Adding your comment:
