To compare life to a Winter's day
Would be too stupid; too cliche
Perhaps I'll compare life to our sins
Where one ends as one begins
We pour out tears and fall apart
Mourning for love and forgotten art
Tears for the crow that was a dove
That died for all the things we love
With each passing day spawns memories
Of lust, hate, pain, and agony
And we realize that life is just pain
No matter if there's sun or rain













Comments
Also you managed to put the word crow into a poem without me hating you or the poem, impressive I must say.
So impressive infact, I may have to favorite this.
Good work mate.
--
"It is called fear and its seeing a great renaissance."
-Dresden Dolls
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