TheSybarite

This is one of my first few attempts at poetry. Please read and guide me on how and where I can improve. Your reviews mean a lot. Hope you enjoy it.

It is a love not meant to be.

Just a sweet, little piece in honour of Father's Day.

Every day is just the same, and I am not strong enough to break free.

I need a reason to celebrate myself, as the world destroys my garden of life.

I wear the colours of every emotion; this is who I am.

Because he was so perfect in every way, words and ink and paper fell short in his praise.

There was something wrong with me, but what? I didn't know.

In the end, what did I create? Good? Or bad?

She comes every night, and takes me far, far away.

Worse than the dead?

After death, we go to hell. Or are we already there?