In the dark tower I wait

The words I used were wrong

You said fix them, fix this

I continued to place them

You warned me of the tower I would soon call home

Still the words came

Doubt me not you said

But I did and mocked you with miss put words and unpleasant tones

So here I sit placed in your tower

You did not warn of its cold stone and ghostly remints

So under cracked beams of thickened wood I lay

And upon dust and death I stay

The moon is my only sight

Nearly blocked by a dying tree

I only wish to be hung by thee

In my death I will be free

 But when I reach pressing stone keeps me in

And mocking tone rings with in

You could have stopped this you know

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

Very dark and in its darkness this is beautiful. I really like this. A very alluring tale within this poem. Really great writing!

[Mark]

Wow, powerfully sad! I enjoyed reading.