- Books, Literature, and Writing
The past poem
I can feel the emptiness calling my name.
I feel the rush of hurt, and pain.
I hear the echoes of a forgotten past,
Like ghosts in the darkness they flash by so fast.
With bitter sweetness, I reflect on chances never taken.
Hopes and dreams that life has forsaken.
I hear the words that were never spoken, and
I remember the promises that were all too often broken.
Where do I go from here? Where should I start?
When my soul is all but empty, and I carry a wounded heart.
I carry the cross of torment, and try to remain brave,
But I fear the voice of the past will haunt me to my grave.