The silence pierces through me
Harder than the sharpest device
I know it's hard to glee
It happens what's meant to be
All what's causing your demise
I can very well see
Hold your own hand and be
The sun, not the vice
For it'll help you flee
You should publish your poems somewhere. They are amazing.
ReplyDeleteHelp me get a lead on that, maybe?
DeleteAnd, thanks so much.