Monday, June 27, 2005

Poetry...or so I think.

Take a walk in my version of death,
teach me to be the man...
Awake I sit all hours late,
waiting to be the man...
Alive I dream of futures past,
striving to be the man...
Memories fade, scars blur,
and why? To be the man...

2 Comments:

At 28/6/05 9:02 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Poetry is the language of the soul. Keep it flowing!

 
At 30/6/05 10:36 AM, Blogger VW said...

Wonderful. Please keep writing poetry.

 

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