POETRY!
STORY OF DEATH...
All to see was not love or hate, only nothing. I stood alone as I watched your grave. I loved you lots, before you were dying.
I stare at the sky, only to see black. Only to see your blood. Believing it or not, you were dead.
The colors of your eyes were black, watching them dig your grave, left me broken hearted and it gave me the feeling that I was dead. You reminded me of the blood... You were everything to me and now, you are nothing. Remember me? Why were you dying?
It is lonely being next to nothing. Everything else is alive, but now you are dead. They put flowers by your grave.
The flowers were the color of your blood. I hate you, for dying. Trying to remember your face was hard, all I saw was black.
Staring at your blood. It turned black. Sometimes I think I should dig up your
grave to see you, only dead... I think of you and sometimes of nothing.
You kept me alive and then you were dying.
Help yourself, why do you have to be dead? I am nothing. Now, I see black. And I feel blood,
dripping down my face onto your grave. I felt myself dying...
Every day and night is black, sleeping on your grave. You were the world to me, but now stands nothing. I don ' t cry, I know I ' m dying. It ' s everywhere now, too much blood. Don ' t tell me, I know... you are dead.
It ' s pitch black now and I feel nothing. I ' m dying of pain and death. I see my blood on your grave and now, I am dead.
Sestina: This type of poem requires 6 stanzas, and 6 words repeated at the end of each line in each stanza with 6 lines per stanza.
Student Ink 2013