... Of Living Dogs and Dead Lions
We found ourselves wishing for death
His inflicted welts healed, one on another
Yet we held on to Prophecy, like Macbeth
Time came and passed, yet our pains remained
Seasons came and went, and we got used to hurting
And on days we got wet, it wasn’t by our tears but because it rained
To us dying was no different from what we understood as living
A living dog is considered better than a dead lion
Soon, we the dogs stood tall, and the dead lion laid low
Slowly we healed and regained strengths of iron
Yet silence remained, because dead lions don’t roar
"we the dogs stood tall, and the dead lion laid low
Slowly we healed and regained strengths of iron
Yet silence remained, because dead lions don’t roar"
Your expert use of metaphors and imagery shines as bright as your poem. I really enjoyed this piece and look forward to reading more of your work soon. keep up the good work.
Thank you Sir!
good job
ROAR! Nice job.
Wow! That's deep. Good job