The moon shrinks, the moon grows, The city dies and the young girl knows; Amidst the wood wild with life The girl wept, a heart blackened and strife. And the moon shrinks, the moon grows. The city shrouded with darkness on the roofs and walls. But the girl, the girl falls. The bright yellow ball, a gleam of light Attempts comfort but amplifies the depressing night. And the moon shrinks, the moon grows. Midnight arrives; the bells toll with life Weak and ill the girl reaches for a knife. The sun rises, the arrival of dawn, But the young girls breath has long been gone. And the moon shrinks, the moon grows.
i think it means alot more if you can relate to the girl, which i think alot of people can. this one is good. most peoples poems nowadays you can hardly follow the thought process let alone the message being conveyed by the author. good job
quite good, you should look at the work of Laurie Anderson this is just for you as I liked your poem a lot and I think you could develop on style and content (have a look it starts a bit wierd but becomes brilliant) http://youtube.com/watch?v=0hhm0NHhCBg
