Dream

I loved the world to die in flames;
I loved it, without face or names.
Its eyes of darkness cast on me,
I loved them, for they couldn’t see.

I loved the roses that were dying,
I loved the children that were crying.
Each and every drop of tear,
I loved it, for it wasn’t clear.

Why do we love all that is broken?
Why do we love what can’t be woken?
It is just a dream of ours,
That we’ll be buried with those flowers.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s