bluemoon

The Wind

All through the night
the wind howls like a
horrible monster,
disrupting you dream-
less sleep. You wake
some time in the dead
of night to the harsh tip-tap
of a tree on the window.
The wispers of the
wind outside make you
remember the horror.

Blood gushing from
his broken heart,
His head resting on
your blood smeared
arm. Shaking uncontrolably
and so, so cold.
His eyes glazzing as
he looks up at you,
along with gentle
tears falling off
his cheek.

And then he died,
in some cold and
dirty alleyway.
Eyes closed, head
on your arm.
You cried grievingly
over another broken
body on some old
and worn out sreet.

The seacing of the
storm makes you
remember reality.
You close your eyes
and drift of to sleep,
only to be awakened
by the wisper of the wind.


Tell me what you think of this.