The hour glass drops its last grain of sand,
As feeble hope slips from your trembling hand.
Lost in a world of your repeating lies,
The chance you had falls apart as it dies.

Always dreaming of a new tomorrow,
In which you can drown your lasting sorrow.
Stolen words lay sour on your ripe lips,
Forgotten love from your life slowly slips.

Broken and shattered on the cold damp ground,
Like small shrouds of glass shattered all around.
This web of lies you continue to weave,
Loss of breath that you can never retrieve.

Hopeless words you concocted on a whim.
Eternally hanging on a thin limb.



Editor's Choice Poetry Contest Winning Poem (6/08)

By Bella Russell