Recycled Poetry

So the other day, I was going through my computer and I found some older stuff, including a sonnet I wrote in 12th grade. I really like it. I want to write more poetry. Here it is:

From a Survivor

'Though in the dewy embers of the last
Few moments of the day the dark appears
To gently take ahold of light and cast
Its sleepy shadow 'round, I see the tears
Once in the dark (they're silhouetted by
The moon) that day has shed to mourn the loss
Of one more chance to make things right. I cry.
But no one hears the sounds I make; the moss
Has grown too thick around for anyone
To even sense my discontent. One should
Not learn the secrets of a sobbing sun
That wallows in its loneliness and could
Not bear to reignite. I do survive-
But oh- I wonder, can this be alive?

I don't really write that much depressing poetry... actually my little sister Allie does that all the time. But I think it could be really cathartic. Also, it might make me more indie. Like Frannie. Teehee! ;o)