of our times.
the standings still, the withered smiles,
the wording of our rhymes
the innocence of nothingness and the
shame that it brings
the deep core of our broken heart
and the hope one day it sings
our blemished freedom, tainted by a
love that will never come
the thought that one day we will lie down
and vanish beneath the sun
the aching faces, the missed sightings,
the letters of despair
the prolonging sense of fear
forever hanging in the air
and yet there is an age,
regretful but still free
masquerading the small mistakes
that make us what we will forever be
the stars, the trees, houses, buildings,
stood loosely in the sky,
a burning spiritual nirvana
one which we know will never die.
note*This is my first attempt at ever writing a poem.I just finished school this week, and found the writing of poetry to be an interesting exercise over the coming months.
