Life is a mirror and poetry is my reflection.
I sit inside a modern tomb Beheld my kin, inside death's womb Reminding me how we're all doomed Alone inside a crowded room
By Logan Solo6 years ago in Poets
“Why dost thou fret?” inquired the knight Behind his colored shield “Thy face is long, thy eyes as cold As this sword that I wield.”
We’ve gone over all we can do, think or say But still, this does not dry the tears for today We’ve tried and we’ve lied; with our hope, fear, and pain
Lullaby epitaphs whispered in tones Showing the impact of pilotless drones A phantasm promise of much better days Gave us our distorted error of ways