Poetry (tears of the lost)

A poem on what poetry and art sometimes seem to be...

Poetry


Through this labyrinth of night where I have been lost for years

Through these walls of sadness

My mind flies unbound

And travels to a forest in hell

Where trees weep endlessly remembering their lives

Trees that once where souls
Instead of tears they bear blood-colored fruit, that

Sometimes end on the river and happily drown

But others drift on the furious torrent

Until they reach the surface world

Under a bleak sky, on the outskirts of a grey, gloomy city

Where lonely children find and devour them joyfully

And become poets.