T.S. Wilkins Poems

What sorrow struck the willow tree?
Is it the same that's stricken me
Where in my soul, I once was free...
And now it claims the best of me?
...

At this very moment…

Beneath my low and calmly voice—
Beneath the smoothness of my skin
...

My soul…..

A crystal piece of glistening glass
So useless now it seems,
...

They say I am the dark horse
That is destined till my end
To gallop like the broken soul
In the shadows of the wind
...

My mind is like the drifting ship
That knows not where to sail.
It lingers in such wretched water;
In midnight fog,
...

I watch how society watches him—
This being on display
Society—The audience of selfish thinking
For sorrow’s great taunting play.
...