a story
Learn more about other poetry terms
Alone, in a tower,
A girl weaves her hair.
While dangling and untangling it,
She adds her tears to the pond below.
Alone, but for the other spoils
Adorning the interior.
P
L
I
N
K
There plunks another silver wish,
Down into my depths with a swish,
Whispers of love and wealth catch my ears,
my stone, my stone
oh my cold stone heart
why are you callaous and set apart?
my black, my black
oh my shriveled black heart?
why when I need you, do you depart?
my hard, my hard
though blind he could see
though healed he still bleeds
though it is over he still grieves
though he is torn he proceeds
though young, he still leads
though memories fill his sleep
