Poetry Contest Entry
Artist - Sandro Botticelli
© Art.com
Untitled
~By Sym
The torpid stupor after the shambles,
the walls collapsing, revealing
a broken heart holding to hope.
Yet where he lies, no hope follows,
nor ever existed,
merely a desperate folly,
and a tear,
slowly rolling earthwards.Inactive body conceals the working mind,
working and thinking of things past.
Time rolls to a halt before vacant eyes,
listlessly gazing,
seeing nothing,
hoping for everything,
expecting little.~To be a poet is a condition rather than a profession~
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