Poem: My Hands

I cannot see it.

Where did it go?

The village that I prepared is slowly going away.

The people I can no longer hear cheer.

I am lost and my dream are no more.

Is this what happens when a dream is not achieved?

Will it every be achieve?

My blood is on my hands, and I am afraid to get it off.

They need to be clean so how do I wash them?

Will they stay bloody forever?

I guess so.

Poem: Last Days

The seed is turning.
The tide has risen.
The ocean has started to listen.
No one is talking.
The love is burning the flame.
Showering the water with the open glaze.
Listening to the winds brush it away.
Not knowing that this is our last days.
The last days of a love that made mountains.
The love the broke hills.
The love that no longer has a lover.
This is the end of our days.

Poem: Just The Same

Trying to find the words, but I am always coming up short.

This was supposed to be fun, not it just seems like a test.

A test that I just cannot seem to pass.

Writing repeatedly, and everything is the same.

I miss the feel over saying something new.

Now it is just a job that is making me blue.

I keep doing it every day knowing that it is the same.

Trying to be clever, but people have caught up to my game.

This maybe it as I say every day, but then comes tomorrow and I am back again.

So, goodbye for now, until I can find the rain once again.