Toys


All good things have an end,
Making you wish you had a friend.
You can feel yourself ready to bend,
For there is nothing left to lend.
Darkness fills the sky,
Causing you to crash from your high.
All you can ever do is try,
Even when you know you will cry.
Sometimes there is nothing to gain,
For life is such a strain.
Your heart fills with pain,
For you feel smaller than a sand's grain.
Every now and again,
You will have to give in.
As I have with this pen,
It ought to be a sin.
All light has gone,
Even in the dawn.
Your last breath is drawn,
For you are just another pawn.
You will never have a choice,
And no one will ever hear your voice.
Never again will you rejoice,
For all we are is a bunch of toys.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem