Poems from BWintersfield
Twenty four hours in a day
One thousand four hundred fourty minutes
waste away
Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds
quickly decay
with...
With beginnings, there are ends
But with ends, there are beginnings
Though there is death, there is life
In darkness, there is light
Loss...
On nights that sit so cold, in thoughts so old
This night won them all as the night that took a toll
On my psyche still so fragile, and...
You lash at me with all your will
I know your will
Trick me to put down my guard then come in for the kill
With wrathful words, the words...
Unmedicated and asphyxiatedwhat a woe to be riddiculed for who you arecracks forming in the mindand the demon clawing at your back
Death...