Enigma
The day is coming when the sun will become exhausted
and in her agony she will stop shining.
Darkness will sail across the sky and fill the earth.
The moon will bleed and she will glow red.
The earth will drown in her blood.
Like the First Ocean it will cover it.
So why is it my mind is fixed on you?
As for you, who can tell what your true intentions are?
Your mind is a labyrinth, unable to maneuver through.
Alas! All I have are your dying thoughts, saying their last goodbyes.
O! We were so free! we were so young.
We were naive! We were as good as dung.
So many doubts, so many guesses.
You took all my time...
You, you were my poetry.
But now, you plastic cutlery:
useless.
poem by Soren Valentine
Added by Poetry Lover
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