A Question Burned Within Me

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A question so ingrained,
entwined within me it burns.
To my core this reality haunts me.

How have I live this long with such darkness in my heart?
With such a vicious nature.
My life has been nothing but violence, and scorn.

I am hollow,
without a soul,
without a love to truly call mine.

Why am I a soul with no goal?
No path,
no light to guide me?

I am lost,
and this question echoes through my mind.
As I walk this endless path.

Why have I not found meaning?
I am lost,
forgotten in this world.
And as I wander that question burns.
-Dante93




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Hey. I do like your poem. I think it is good, but I don't really like how it changes style half way through. It is a good idea, but if you are going to change styles, make it completely differently, or the same, not half way in between. But thats just what I think. There is probably someone else who thinks the opposite of what I say, but that's because it is just the way I think.

But it is a good poem. Keep writing, what you did is most likely better than most of the stuff I do. :)




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haha thanks. this how i write though. some poems change gears. it propels a different message.
-Dante93



"The trouble with Borrowing another mind was, you always felt out of place when you got back to your own body, and Granny was the first person ever to read the mind of a building. Now she was feeling big and gritty and full of passages. 'Are you all right?' Granny nodded, and opened her windows. She extended her east and west wings and tried to concentrate on the tiny cup held in her pillars."
— Terry Pratchett, Discworld: Equal Rites