The Howling Wind
The howling wind took my heart away,
It tore through bone, through flesh, through name.
Whispers carved in the hollow tree’s,
A chorus of madness, a kiss of flame.
It didn’t steal; it carved the void,
Ripping the essence, piece by piece.
My pulse became its cruelest toy,
A fragile beat that begged for cease.
In its wake, the world fell still,
A graveyard of light, the sun undone.
All warmth consumed, all hope to kill,
I was a shadow before the one.
The wind, it laughed as it tore apart,
The skin from my soul, the soul from my mind.
Nothing remained, not even the heart,
Just a void where I once dared to tred.
It dragged me deep through forgotten screams,
Through the echoes of those who bled in vain.
I became a ghost in its cruelest dreams,
Bound to the dark, lost in the pain.
Now I wander where nothing grows,
A broken thing, a fading prayer.
The howling wind, it never slows.
It’s left me hollow, lost, and bare.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
I felt and heard the wind. Good job.
The wind, both a literal and metaphorical entity, steals not just physical essence but the very core of the individual, leaving emptiness in its wake.