Talking Woods

Walking through the talking woods,

looking at the reflecting water,

I see a bag of old goods

and empty bottles underwater.

 

a forgotten path covered in grass,

wandering without direction,

sunshine as the clouds pass,

thinking without objection.

 

listening to mother nature,

I hear the whistling wind

and chirping creatures,

I wander like a lost kid.

 

the sun slowly disappears

and transforms into a starry sky,

the pain built up for years

bursts free like a war cry,

 

but no soldiers hear me

and nobody is near me.

 

in the talking woods, I find

my peace of mind.

 - Creative Mind University 

This poem is about: 
Me
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