by Little Red
A poem i created under the lexical set of 'loss'
|Come, walk through the desolate wasteland,
The dusty ruins of a kingdom gone from sight.
Let us wander, together but apart, down the valley of the river of tears
That stream from eyes with you no longer in their sight.
Forget me not, O lonely traveller, though you are weary and I feel your cry;
And I will weave this path alone, with you ahead and woe by my side.
Forgive this my weakness, my folly, my flaw;
I rage, I hate, for you are with me no more.