Because I have fallen in love with villanelles, and this was the second one I ever wrote, and although I got mad at it for being depressing and unpublished it about a week ago, I decided it's still a decent poem and that I should put it back.


End.

There's no one here to hear my cries.
I know I have no place to run:
with heavy heart, I close my eyes.

Your words have cracked the darkened skies.
You've turned your back---so too the sun---
there's no one here to hear my cries.

Once I was your most cherished prize.
Now you are gone, and death's begun;
with heavy heart, I close my eyes.

I used to pray the sun would rise.
God wills it not; His will be done:
there's no one here to hear my cries.

Turned cold with fear and drunk with lies,
I quake, like deer before the gun.
With heavy heart, I close my eyes.

Now, as my final hour dies,
I seek no grief; there can be none:
There's no one here to hear my cries.
With heavy heart, I close my eyes.



Poetry by WildGoose
Read 673 times
Written on 2008-05-17 at 06:27

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