Friday, November 12, 2004
The streetlights illuminate,
with their dim, solemn glow,
giving light to the bleak,
and nothing more.
This styrofoam heart,
as it sits in the street,
has it lost every sound,
but its own rhythmic beat?
The piper plays as the kids unite,
and steals everything from the morning light,
Skips on and on, away from view.
Please don't go. My piped piper. You.
And so again the tragedy resumes,
after its long lull in time.
the mournful, haunting tune,
That'll never Leave your mind.
BLOGGED.
Cashvin. 11/12/2004 07:19:00 PM
my comatose
its far too much for me.
scream.CashvinChristopher
20's not all that bad : finds solitude in the guitar. singing my lungs out. senseless expressive poetry. making a fool of myself. :)
