The Dying Poet
Solitude and seclusion,
Nothing but these four walls.
All I have is my body,
I don't even have the clothes on my back.
Now there are none
I just have this piece of paper and pen.
I write here on the floor,
The pen tearing the very paper it writes.
Trying to get my emotions out.
Hot is the room,
But Cold the body and soul,
I can't feel myself.
My touch is dead,
My hearing gone,
My sight fading,
I won't be alive long.
My body grows colder by the moment,
I want to keep each breath,
Hoping that the next,
Won't be my last.
Will I survive the night,
Or will I die before I finish this line.
Is all this pain that I have triggered,
By the pain I have always embraced,
Or is it because I am not a part of this world.
"I love you,"
Words for which my soul has been scorched.
I hate the word love,
It has killed me.
As I have been.
I just wished for friendship.
Now it's too late for this man.
To late to play this game,
Never will I live,
The paper's torn so I must stop,
I am dead now and the cold will now take me,
Goodbye cruel world,
I leave my corpse.
Who can love me now?
........................I take my last breath................. Huh............................................
By: Justin (K'Heart) "The mind can be the most dangerous weapon a person has."
Such a saddening poem T.T...ur things seem to bring tears to my eyes, JWD my friend.
I no get the "Huh" at the end of the poem.
"huh" is his last breath. (right?) neways, yes, the poem is again... so... full of emotion. *tears*
For those reading the poem, "huh" is the release of this last breath. This is his last moment of life.
Well.....Normally...Huh.....would be like..If someone said something and you didnt understand....you respond with a "Huh?"