Forest Of Death Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Needing to talk, fighting the horrid tears of loneliness,
swept back against the forest of death, no sound issuing
forth.

Collected in a vast gully of remorse, untouched by vanity,
felt by the innermost tumult of the soul.

Unable to stretch or reach for a hand of caring, knowing
there is none in this world.

Collapsing inside a fruitless search for happiness or
joy, alone, trampled underfoot, not a ghost of a chance
to live fully.