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leaving in my season

you never see the colours
of autumn leaves so red
the textures of the clouds above
forming little beds
for the rain that always trickles
upon our weary heads
the grass is looking tired
the flowers look so spent
im scared i know im dying too
its things i never said
the dying of the season
i love you life
with my last breath

Please tell me what you think

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  • xeroabyss II
    October 21

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    Such a somber sentimet.
    To watch the beauty of the world fade away into a bleak, colorless dull and wonder "Eventulally, this season will become me...".
    Tis a hopeless feeling that overcomes the senses sometimes, dwelling upon such an enevitability such as the end of our days.

    I like that you've wrote a good melancholy piece, expressing a latent, but ever present fear/saddness, without going over to the darkside (emo) to let the outside world into your world.