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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2124779
More sadness
I'm running out of rope.

Lost in the woods.
A small creature smothered
Under the memories of trees.
Their faces are there.
Smiles of better days
When roots were growing
And nights were on fire.
There was peace in the heart.
Laughter in our songs.
Glasses raised to a sky
That held as high as our spirits.
Promises we made
Woven into the canopy.
On this soil we would grow,
Etch our legacy in the stars,
Be happy.

These pictures, I cling to
Wishing they'd come back.
Tired of moving forward
Cause forward is hollow.
A path marked with white walls
And blood stained razors.
Cheers turned red,
Laughter marred with prayers
For no tomorrow.
Faces turned to gnarled
Creatures that haunt here.
The forest screams
As branches extend
Pointing blame in all directions.
Covered in tears as thick as sap.
I can see the floor
And the flowers
My feet can almost touch the ground

I ran out of rope
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2124779-Windchimes