A
Waste Of Space.
Could
it be said?
Yes,
but maybe,
Just
maybe it isn't true.
The
rhythm and rhyme,
The
daily time,
Spent
mulling over,
White
cliffs of Dover,
Or
rolling,
In
fields of golden clover.
Should
it be feared?
Yes,
but possibly,
Just
possibly it is beginning.
The
daily dose morose,
The
spectre gross,
How
well we love
To
rise high above,
Or
fighting,
To
still be beloved.
Will
you be fooled?
Yes,
but honestly,
Just
honestly it could heal.
The
pain of your heart,
The
lonely start,
Be
sent far away,
And
brighten up your day,
Or
calling,
Your
spirit home to stay.
Wouldn't
it be right?
Yes,
but probably,
Just
probably my wordiness saves,
The
need to fear,
The
silent ear,
And
an empty goal,
I
can fill in this hole,
Or
inviting,
Breathe
passion into your soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment