Fire On The Willow
Weary beneath the Weaping Willow,
I lie so lonesome and secluded from the world.
Away from what's realtiy and the truth of life,
As my skitzophrenia engulfs me,
And burns away my once self like a wildfire.
Fire beneath the Willow Tree,
And no one gives a thought to my agonizing burns.
The fire consumes me, swallows me, eats me alive,
And I'm overzealous in my attempts to be quenched.
Completely alone and pleading for my life,
As the truculent fire leaps to the Willow.
The fire licks up the Willow Tree,
And flames creep into my eyes,
So all I may witness is Hell.
Hell inside myself blazes the world around me,
And nothing's as it seems to be.
All alone and incarserated in flames,
As fire burns up the Willow Tree.
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Comments about this poem (Fire On The Willow by Luna Moon )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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