Steel

[NeverMore]

even the strong
sometimes walk away
when the weight of the world
closes in around them
time plays it's songs
leaving rumble in it's wake
the ungrateful stand watching
the caring grabbing on for life
though when the steps get taken
is it always to late
the cold has set in
the snow has fallen covering all
what was hidden by frost
sweet drops of crimson
standing out on the white
from blades sharp as razors
flashed with intent
cutting the last of the steel

[pipes]

good job, flow without rhyme is something i've alwasy admired and could never master. and by "rumble" did u mean to type "ruble" (i think i spelled it wrong too) but as in bits and fragments of somthing destroyed. i'm a terrible speller. good write.


pipes

[NeverMore]

Acctually, you will find with most of my works rhyme is not there. I don't normally llike to be traditional, although it does slip out once or twice a year *LOL* And yes, it is rumble... like the noise.

I thank you for the comment, I am glad you enjoyed it.

[Seth]

Your poems have a rhyme all their own. Masterfully portrayed, with the feeling of genuity and a dab of relatable realism, that brings upon such interesting and intriguing imagery. Again, fantastic poem.