Autumns of Despair

deadnothingbetterdeadnothingbetter Posts: 2,202
edited January 2005 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Young man sits still besides the clawing trees
Quietly speaking his mind
Unaware of the torments
Slowly tearing his insides

A fragile glass stepping into darkness
His passion burned so easy inside
Painted his hope on human canvass
Shattered the glass and destroyed the light

He's on his breaking point of human despair
His spirit is crying for hope
No one's around in these deserted woods
No one's found a reason to go

In the midst out on open fields
Withered leaves are lovely arranged
There's comfort in tragic scenery
Of man's dreams all riddened with pain

He's waiting for his true love to pass him by
He's waiting for his moment of fame
He's waiting in autumns of despair
He finds himself fading the same
This isn't the land of opportunity, it's the land of competition.
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