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The Inner Despair
February 2, 2013
As the grasses fall to the black abyss,
The birds do sing their final cry,
For all the world must eventually die,
The rest of them, we will surely miss.
The light has not yet faded so,
But oh contraire, they face the skies.
For all the world eventually dies,
Because all the life, soon must go.
But where could we ever find a home,
While sitting in our barren cage,
With no place our hearts could roam.
Our cage is one great, hellish dome,
Full of despair, desease, and phage,
Until out of adolescence, we are fully grown.
© Cerys W., Marblehead, MA
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