Words flow from Pen
Child cries within
Forever do they spill
Their long storied ill
Noting dreams and such
Life becomes a crutch
Oft repeated thoughts
Buy you no pots
Only dreaming for a fix
The delayed crucifix
Lies upon the door
Not raining anymore
What isn't seen
It was never clean
Only in painted give
Do the dreams live
Upon a high shelf
Reflections of self
Not meant for you
Something I have to do
Thrust upon the wind
Winning in the end
This tale stops here
Turn away your ear
No comments:
Post a Comment