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sara

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since April 2013
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A Simple Ideal

April 14, 2013
Laying broken on the ground Afraid to make a single sound I wait for the fear to pass As my body slowly sinks into the grass I think back to when I was just a fawn Basking in the sun stretched out on the lawn The smell of pungent oak tickling my nose And the feel of crushing over ripe berries between my toes The way the leaves turned from green to red The roots and dirt my only bed Yes, it was all quite a paradise lush and living Yet after so many years there was nothing I found riveting I constantly thought about the end And if it would embrace me like a long forgotten friend Yes I had such dreams for what the end would hold I never really thought it would be dark and cold The sound of the rifle cracked through the air Leaving my abdomen broken with a bloody tare I would like to say I saw it coming, but that would be a lie Because like all nymph like creatures I never truly wanted to die
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