510 of 1306

by Jeffrey Bowman

The Forlorn Sound of Silence

The task was done, the sun had set on his dreams, and he wanted to run
Away from his girlfriend, a love he could not mend, because it already reached the end
He had little hope, he could not cope, and so he tied that fatal rope
To an aged oak tree, whispering, "Have mercy on me," and letting his body swing free
She stood over his casket with a new lover nearby; she did not cry, she gave no sigh
Amid the forlorn sound of silence, he molders under the ground, having never found joy
His bones are everlastingly alone and all traces of his existence are forever gone

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Poetry: Dark poems

by Jeffrey Bowman

Poetry: Dark poems

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