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Gone

by sneakielilly

The leaves rustle as the wind roars

The orange setting sun blinds my eyes

The sound of the crow echoing in my mind soars through the air

Filled with sadness and contempt from the words like daggers

The sharp pain of their leaving

Making me breathe out slowly

As I observe what I have become

Broken

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sneakielilly

I don't write poetry a lot even though I really love to do it. I'm a band nerd, am in high school, failed my first driving test barely 10 minutes in, and I like music a lot. I want to be a TV/movie editor and have a passion for that field of work.

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Comments (1)

sneakielilly
<p>I would love if you were completely honest with me. I always love contructive critism and I also wrote this in 9th grade so go hard.</p>

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