aristofene

This is poetry full sadness


A sad Poem

Solitude is an
Early morning season.
The hollows formed
On the matters
Are only a reminder
Of the infinity sadness,
That today is invading
Your porcelain heart.

Misfortune is only
A pale lady.
Your pillow is only
An eternal lagoon,
Where you submerge
Your sorrow.

You have lost your prudence,
And your paths are disperse
Within the mist of your
Insecurities.

The distractions you gave
Yourself have become ephemeral.
And the loved one's intransigence
Is your chalice's drowning drop.

Solitude is not
A great companion.
And the aroma of drugs
Are only A brief disillusion
Of the decision Made
That today dictates
Your reality.

And whatever goes up
Must come down.
A moment comes by,
And if you elapse,
It does not happened
Again.