Andrew Grant

I began writing poetry as little as a year ago as a way of understanding myself and the events constantly happening around me. This method of expression I find both enjoyable and rewarding, in particular it helps me gain a familiarity with the world as I grow up.

Poems

RAIN OF TEARS

Awaken the sleeping fool,
Make him cry on his sacred blanket.
And let him see that he is just one.

The miracle of hope has gone,
He refuses to open his arms in the light of love.

Not a trace is left inside of desire,
Because all he lived of others was a disguise.

Mind made of rust and a heart made of coal,
He sees her diamond eyes and expects her to fall.

Go ahead and face the day of violent remains,
Growing out of something his father gave him,
The flower with roots of poison.

So sick that he could hurt himself,
With cold, still eyes of November nights.
Fears of possibilities crashing into his dreams.

Dreams of an angel no longer a presence in him,
He wonders how many days he'll live without her,
Without her shine of stars his tears will rain.

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