Finite's Lost Arrow

By smokejack

Fri, 17 Jul 2009
  • 744 reads
1 comments
 

Finite’s lost arrow

I often wondered where the end began
As I heard the sound of banshee wails
I once made her a pillow filled with stars
She gave me a bed of nails

What took the strength from under me
Was the weakness I tried to hide
I once made her a sparkling tree
She gave me a plant that died

I think of her and fight myself
When there’s nowhere else to turn
I gave her my heart on an oak cut shelf
She laughed as she watched it burn

There is no such thing as laid to rest
When the memories have no grave
I wrote her name on my soul in jest
She just keeps me as her slave

(C)Sj2009

Certificate U
Story
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Beeme on
Another great poem, Smokejack. I really enjoyed this, very sad though, but sometimes helps to write about things that cause us pain. Helps me, sometimes. Beeme xx

k.