Alone

A sonnet not about love, but death instead.

The burning light of the bright golden sun

cascades over the bloody leaves of trees.

At that moment I know I am done

when the numbing pain takes over my knees.

Like the shot of a bullet from a gun, 

life transformed into the worst kind of tease.

When sorrow and pain replace all of fun, 

how do I replace all the memories? 

Not just the bad, but the good I must shun. 

I have been left behind without the keys, 

alone in a game that cannot be won. 

Hopes and dreams hung on the breeze

the warm autumn day that death prevailed, 

on a long journey, my life had sailed.

Author's Note

I attempted iambic pentameter...not sure if I succeeded.