Needles
Needles slicing without a sound
Sewing death
and hate abound
Soft silks left in the air
Leave behind
Void and despair
Strewn about, left behind
Sardonic silk
For the innocent to find
Beware, do not feel
For if you do
Its your fate you seal
Chained to a fate of turmoil and death
You'll keep sewing
Untill your dying breath
Just like the fruit of old
When you taste
Your soul is sold
In the East. the needles fly
Ignorant of
Our desperate cry
To fill up that void of despair
The East will bring
More warfare
In my opinion, not my best poem as it is a metaphor not so easy to understand as the rest of my poems. I like easy to understand xD
Please comment, and read some of my other stuff and comment on those! http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AmG0Va67IHlKMZL.5Br9XJtp.Bd.;_ylv=3?qid =20080703110442AAkZNO0
In response to other questions, writing is my hobby as i have no idea how to get something published. im also only 15 yo.
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