The Meadow

I prance this meadow;

The oh so beautiful meadow,

Lined with rows of thorns.

Demons hidden in the darkness,

Their victims’ skeletons shadowed by rose bushes,

Whom I have no sympathy to mourn.

Greeted by dusty sunsets,

Bid farewell by coal black moons,

Looked upon by empty, gray clouds.

Happiness has no place here,

Faith has all vanished,

Everything hopeful is gone, no doubt.

I know it sounds dreadful,

But this is all I know,

This meadow named depression is my home.

No matter who attempts to enter,

Who attempts to save me,

I’ll always reside in this place, all alone.

I refuse to leave,

Unless my lover comes to save me,

I’m damned to die; a war that cannot be won.

Yet, this is impossible,

For the lover I once knew,

                                       
       is long gone…                 

Author's Note

This was inspired by a song titled "I don't think about you anymore but, I don't think about you" by the "Hungry Ghosts."
Enjoy :)

Reviews

[The Scholar]

Oh wow this was incredibly descriptive, and awfully morose.
I really liked this piece actually, great job. It's so much imagery but it gets the point across. And it's so touching and sad, I'm so sorry. :'(

"Greeted by dusty sunsets,
Bid farewell by coal black moons,
Looked upon by empty, gray clouds."

Dusty sunsets and coal black moons... eerie and incredible.

I've never rated a poem before, but... 100/100. Loved.