Pack the bags I'm leaving here tonight.
Don't need money or a place to sleep at night.
I want the wealth of self compliance
And the warmth and comfort of silence.
I will walk till my feet are sore
And till self hate exists no more;
Until the revived surfaces on this road,
And the past is forever shadowed.
A conclusion to the charade;
Succumbing me to simply fade,
Into the dust beneath my feet
Where hell and human nature meet.
Author notes
I really wanted to finish this. It's very bad though but I just wanted to do some rhyme.
What did you think?
Comments
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Great
Not a lot of poets can pull of end-rhyme and I'm glad to say you did it perfectly. A really short, but sweet poem. It's not at all bad, it has great structure, and could be made even better, as every poem could be. -
WOW, this is great ashlie! It's like lyrics! you can sing this poem. I love it, it is absolutely brilliant. It's not bad, and i agree, keep working on it, because this is great! You are such an amazing writer ashlie! Keep it up.
I love "I will walk till my feet are sore and till self hate exists no more."
Beautiful imagery.
=)
-Swintha
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