A Ballad for Death

A compilation of the first 500 poems I ever wrote.
I write in my free time accross different styles and themes, sometimes there are reasons to what I write and sometimes there are not, but I always try to follow my inspiration.


73. You could call him Al

As he slowly walks down the large and busy streets,

He cannot keep his head from turning side to side,

Trying to uncover what the tall buildings hide

And getting these strange looks from the people he meets.

He knows not one thing of the city folks’ language

Neither comprehends many a native’s habits,

To him, they run around looking like wild rabbits

Dragging obligations behind, heavy baggage.

He smiles at the wonders visible all around,

He can’t believe his eyes at the marvelous sights,

He can’t believe his ears at these strange, brand new sounds;

They might have thought he would fall prey to unknown fright

However this new world, this grand discovery,

To him is so much more than just a big city.

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