Lonelyness (Heartbreaking) Poem by Dyllan Martin

The flower that was wilting died,
At one o'clock this morn,
And took with all the dignity,
Of men and women who's hearts are filled with scorn,
The icey window shattered like a thousand broken hearts,
And her tears upon the pillow shed,
Like light upon the dark.

Broken was the picture frame,
That lay beside the bed,
With memories of love and loss,
Leaving craters in her wiery head,
She wished to let out a scream,
And liven up the street,
But couldn't waste her precious time,
As she sat in cold defeat.

Striking hard upon the match,
To watch the ember dance,
Across the landing, Down the stairs,
She watched them as they leaped and pranced,
Life used to be a friend of hers,
But was wicked never kind,
The type of friend, (that while your turned)
Stabs you from behind.

All the ember are long dead,
But her memory still rests in my head,
And the note with the words she left behind,
All she wrote was,
'waste of time'