Tables turning clocks are ticking
People dying, tears are pricking.
Slowly dawns the midnight hour, Sorrows run free and tears shower.
Happiness shines like the light, of the sun at night.
It only radiates and falsely shines, tears of joy all run dry.
People stay mourning the past, of the loved ones they let cast.
Now pain and sadness fill their hearts, and that of sorrow and remorse.
The presence of the young one blinded, how thin her thread of life resided.
Now as wisps of clouds fly by, No one wants to say the last goodbye.
For all their hopes and dreams diminish, at the very time this poems finished. |
