And with the wind, a sad poem, – sadness in its light.
Sounds like a box with a handle and a lid that opens and closes.
carrying shadows through the quiet night.
The streams of tears roll down the isolated cheeks.
Every living emotion can be renewed only once; time replaces it too slowly.
In treacherously quiet a sad poem mourns.
Of hearts that break; and vocal chords poor.
It depicts the loss, the cry in calm.
Whenever conquering goals turns into a bunt
, and optimism is out of supply.
A low and gentle repetition of a song,
Underneath a silver lighten sky of moon usually at night.
As if by sewing each line is in the veins of agony and suffering,
Oh how I love a sad poem that has floated all around.
It is of hands that seem to disappear.
And filled with days which have grown cold
and skies which have lost their light.
He cries where there but is no sound of sorrow.
Sorrow that a heart comprehends.
Unfortunately, but the designation of a poem
as sad poem implies a base of sorrow to carry.
Of love never expressed, a damage realized.
Like the rivers, it is slow and runs deep.
A location that memories retire to.
Despite such terms being so hefty, but a lesson’s been taught.
Even when joy makes no sound.
Even in sorrow there is beauty so a poem with sad words
and with a sad tune also has its own beauty.
A reflection of life, but are we taught how to cope.
It was partially true that so when the dark put its arms around you,
And the world becomes heartless and insensitive.
For years read a sad poem — don’t feel alone.
This is a place where you will find a home in those verses.
It’s all okay for sadness, but it hurts,
Bears the nature of germane truth that healing promotes.
A tragic poem recites what is no longer there.
But love, which still insists on its dues, stays put.