The Burning
29 June, 2005
Author: Holly
Torn up little bits of paper,
On each I’ve scrawled my soul.
One for every hope I had,
I drop them in a bowl.
Every single dream I had,
That I believed would come true.
It’s only taken me 17 years,
To realise they never do.
With a smile upon my face,
I deftly light a match.
An auburn glow in a darkened room,
It highlights every scratch.
With no more hesitation,
I unite paper with flame.
It licks and spits, devours my dreams,
Ashes of what I never became.
| Tweet |
Comments on this poem/writing:
| Mike (82.35.78.155) -- Wednesday, July 6 2005, 08:51 am It hurts when you find out that the world is a cruel place, that hopes and dreams are just a waste of time because no one cares. I remember when I first found that out.. I love the way you've described it in your poem, especially the second and third stanzas. |
| |
Click here to read other Poems by Holly
Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved. No part of this website, including all pictures and written words, may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without permission of the original author of the work. All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner. All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: dreamer@dreamersreality.com so the proper person may be notified.