Confession - Poem by Stephen Rogers
How can I confess that which I have done,
to do so would be to lose the sun,
that which brightens every day,
that which inspires me in every way.
Though the joke may be on me,
the jest can be seen on you,
the vision of that apple tree,
the one you can no longer see.
Maybe your vision is impaired,
maybe the tree still stands,
maybe it fell because you stared,
your gazing eyes burning it's soul.
Though you see the glass as half-empty,
I see it as completely empty,
I killed a tree, a living entity,
Life can only be given to those who earned it.
The tree may have earned it's place,
though I have now lost mine.
Comments about Confession by Stephen Rogers
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You