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the remnants of love lay's dormant somewhere in a place of dying flowers and cemetery whispers
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From Darker Times the remnants of love lay's dormant
somewhere in a place of dying flowers
and cemetery whispers
where troubadours dress in black
playing their melodies of sorrow
to the ghosts of lovers past
my writings of poems and prose
the spilling of my dark mind
tell the stories from a dark wasteland
of sunless tranquility
I sit beside the window watching people pass
uncaring and immune to the world around them
each lost within themselves void of any semblance
of love
how could they have forgotten ?
do they not yet feel the pain in my writing
or feel the loss ?
It must be nice to live in tranquility
for I remember every little exquisite joy
and all the incomprehensible pain of love
the remnants of love lay's dormant
somewhere in a place of dying flowers
and cemetery whispers
and here I'll be waiting for it's return
~ D Donner ~
Pain Sucks Eggs
To become lost
in a world of hurt
with no escape
gives rise to
courage or cowardice.
Cowardly is no way
to roll. Ever.