On It Goes

I lived many lives through words. 

I shed tears for heroes who didn't exist,

Written poetry for none but me,

And sung for only trees.

 

For years I've roamed these halls,

And friends I've found in them.

We journeyed together through new lands we created,

And laughed at reality.

 

Our time here is running short.

Soon we must travel on.

Even so, the road to a friend's house is never long.

The adventures shall continue.

 

On it goes, that joke called life.

The sun still rises,

And the Earth still spins.

Where we'll stop I don't know,

But I'll always remember where we began.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741