Deviation Actions
Literature Text
As darkness of sorrow envelops the heart
And chain of memories broken
Light of hope extinguishes
And leaves the heart fragmented
Love, it is a fickle thing
And not without cruel humor
One day bright, filled with happiness
Next mocking, dead and barren
But perhaps it cycles natural
Homaging the four seasons
This theory is what keeps me going
When else I would surrender
Like spring it develops cherished feelings
Intense and unexpected
Flowers bud and trees they bloom
Promises of yet to come
Summer comes to few and far
The matured results of spring
Buds and blooms yield fruits of pleasure
And chapel bells finally ring
Autumn explodes with brilliant hues
Most beautiful of the four
Summers fever cooled, all now in balance
And the harvest of love abound
But cruel times makes all things pass
For the unlucky…
For the unwise…
For those who don’t know what they have
Not until it’s too late
Winter… it freezes the soul
Which was beautiful now lies dead
Pleasure turns to pain excess
And life slowly loses all worth
But hope will never die to those who know where to look
My life was once a firefly, wandering
Love turned it radiant as the sun
Seasons have changed, it’s winterdark
My life reduced to a candlelight in times square
But perhaps these metaphors are better than I thought
Perhaps the short days lengthen
Perhaps the winter turns to spring anew
Perhaps… the night is darkest, just before the dawn
Hope
This is a poem of sorts that I wrote in jail. It's not supposed to rhyme. It is a pure expression of my emotions when I wrote it. I think you call that freeform.
If not, you can't really call it a story, so I'm going with poem.