Treasure Island

Jake Harris


Autobiography.


The silent sounds of a harp unstrung
Play the mournful tune of a heart now stung
Singing timeless lyrics on a serpentine tongue
To be played eternally throughout all time

And in the pages of a book now old
Sits in it the writing of a love untold
Written in the language of a heart grown cold
While the bells of a graveyard softly chime.

The author takes his life with a cyanide pill
He falls in deaths embrace and a horrible chill
Collapsed upon the floor with his cold heart still
In the depths of hell his soul shall ever dine.

Deep within the ground in an unmarked plot
Lays the unknown poet and his work forgot
Left to the works of nature for his bones to rot
But even in his sleep this poet leaves us a sign

That all your hope and happiness are violent lies
Never let your heart soar into the skies
For at the end of things everyone of us dies
Ever will this be the fate of our pathetic mankind.

Submitted: Wednesday, June 04, 2008
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