One more depressing poem from me, then I go back to atmospheric and fantastic. Depressing poems seem too cliché to me.
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Ashes...
They flow down the river,
They lie on the ground;
Lifeless,
Yet warm.
Ashes...
Ashes that hang in the air,
Burning your throat.
Hot, grey ashes
On a cold, grey morning.
Ashes...
What became of that which I loved?
Ashes.
Where does my future lie?
Ashes.
When the end comes:
Ashes,
All ashes
Scattered on the cold wind.
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