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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #2192419
To what end...
To what end shall the leafs fall?......

Stripped from life by the chilling call....

To wilt....... while holding such balanced guilt...

Awaiting the seasons final tilt.....

To be cast down to my mothers grassy feet...

For I am obsolete, a wretched black sheep....

What purpose was I here? To bear no fruit?...

To be turned back to dust with none of life’s loot?..

It doesn’t matter now......

For I am falling........

Falling.........

To the ground.......

Not uttering a single sound......
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