Your Poetry Dot Com - Where does it end?

*Sighing, not breathing,
who made these lies worth believing.
Who'd ever thought that someday you'd die,
without a note, a warning, without a cry.

Come on, wake up,
smell the withered flowers.
Reeking smell of decay and of lost powers.
Find a reason, make a move,
believe that another die may come,
which to live for and make another move.

Standing at a stone gate,
peering through the iron bars,
seeing graves, dead flowers & trees,
in the end i'd reconize this is my final fate.

So many times i've tried to understand,
if there is something more to life,
something i missed, searching now,
can't seem to find something that wasn't there before.

Mystery, a darkened figure,
approaches out of the dark.
Takes his blade & ends his own life.
Leaves a corpse that's consumed by flames
and eternal pain.

Now, still sitting here writing this poem,
quil and ink is up, i'm almost done

An endless quest to find something that i will never find, except for everything i already have found

This poem is Copyright © Kellros