The Durge

I hardly ever write sad poetry, but I have a few times in my life. I noticed a couple of years ago that all of my sad poems have the similar rhythmic device and all followed the same A B format.

There's a big black cloud over me today,
raining slower with time.
It getting harder to find my way,
when there is no sun to shine.
There's a big black spot on my hears right now,
sprouting what I shouldn't sow.
but it's little and dark. A thousand pounds,
whit a shadow as big as my soul.
Even the birds don't sing today,
and my soul has lost all rhyme.
It happens on a new moon they say,
when she's lost her will to shine.
So light up another cigarette,
and come now help me sing sad songs.
My soul is so full of art, and yet,
it's a sun that no longer dawns.
I promised myself I wouldn't write today,
and I've lost my will to shine.
Some people yell, some cry some pray,
but a few of us still rime.
And so my pen takes to it's own flight.
Such dower scribe. A fitting glove.
The words a soar! A lyrical kite!
All I wanted today was love.

Author's Note

Please ignore spelling. Any other comment will be met with open arms.
My portfolio can be found at asadowning.com