Friday, June 5, 2009

I dont like this one....

Here is one of my poems I don't like, and yet I have no idea what to do to it.

Night Comes

My vision fades into haze,
a fuzzy twilight
where it should be broad day.
No father to guide me
no companion beside me,
I lay still, alone.
My bread has been broken
and handed out until
the only thing left is one stale piece
that even wrinkled beggar’s
hands would not take.
It is wasted now
as I have wasted away.
Finally, enveloped in the pitch,
I fall backward down a deep shaft,
the opening, filled with light,
shrinking into the distance.

By: T.J. Seale
Copyright 2007 Thomas Taylor