Poem - 02 October 2015, 00:43

The Voice of Her Life

Preshen Moodley

Sad, sad
Tears, all dried up
Her silence has never been heard

Gloomy is her mind,
Like tear gas in her life

Another needle to the vein,
And the rush...
Like a thousand ton train

Yet the tracks lead her astray

Dull and dreary becomes dawn
Pulling closer to the sheets
An urge to die...

There is no good end to this life, just an end of life
Breaking the silence was never her choice

Finding a high was the voice of her life...

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8 comments

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Richard Waters02 October 2015, 01:43

A really fine write as your first entry on Cosmo !!!

Thanks for sharing ! :)

Preshen Moodley04 October 2015, 07:35

Thank you:)

Lucas Lazar02 October 2015, 01:46

A sad poem, intimate, but above all very real. The voice of your soul has always sounded sad, as a train loaded with thousands of tonnes of misfortune he spent his life, sad, silent and with an irrepressible desire to die he delved into each new dawn. There is almost never a good finish for no life, in one way or another, there are always tears that spilled through the streets as a silent rain at the end of the journey. Greetings, congratulations on the composition and are welcome to COSMOFUNNEL.