The End of Summer

it's the begining of her fall

she cries as she watches the leaves fall off the trees

as he passes her, he knocks her down with his claw

she screams in pain, but he laughs

as she drops down to her knees



he hunts her down for her blood

the death of him will be another's victory

her burnt remains soak into the mud

all this will soon be a memory

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Bazoora's picture

a tale of a love that failed(?)... i read most of your poems and i came up with the conclusion that you are inclined to the gothic culture...are you? nice poems you got here.