Last Pages Of An Unread Book.

Hi, i just completed a piece of poetry for u's to read. Here it is:

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Last Pages Of An Unread Book.​

Space? Is it there?​

Stars light the way,​

In which I walk.​

Dont sense the rain, nor regret,​

I should have seen, the Muscle decieves.​

Nearly finished, time all spent.​

The clock turns a blind eye,​

To keep the public's dream.​

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Going, Lasting till the break.​

Shadow's cast, but not alone,​

The only place he can stay.​

Haunting.​

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Too many images, not enough words,​

to tell the story. It will remain​

To everyone that's Blind. Ringing ears,​

From the drum. Plant the seed and let it grow.​

Naturally.​

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A tree, standing so tall​

and so sturdy- the axe ​

soon takes it away.​

Wiped clean, to a remnant​

Where it shall remain​

to it's own decay.​

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Critism is welcome! so gather around and tell me what you think.​

Thanks for reading,​

Arron​

 

The weilder of the axe, too, grew from a seed that was planted.