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a forebode to love
bricks come crashing
to the ground
a wall in shambles
once was sound
take an axe
to a tree full of life
chopped at its root
for others delight
a meteor starts
aflame in the sky
but turns to dust
when all the sparks die
a loving whisper
soon will turn to a shout
even the brightest things burn out
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I have been writing for a few years now and recently recovered this piece from when I wrote about a seemingly perfect love unexpectedly dying out. I love this poem because of its simplicity to read yet deep meaning when you take a second look and how euphonic it is despite having more of a dismal theme. The title is a play on “an ode” to a particular thing by saying “a forebode” instead to expand on the idea that even the good will still end.