MY feet are wasted
i have relieved myself
upon them.
In powder-blue
all my gross innocence
pulls back the dreams
of my youthful days
My youthful dreams
that i knew close the crypt
upon the somber skies
And the Book of My Life
have many torn pages
just pulp scars of living
actually all by the power
of love fallen so it’s
me i’m writing of
you can take me to a place
called hell i have a hat
hanging on it’s wall
So then, my expansive unknown
always be! That we all
can dream a dream
and eventually meet the day
we try to excuse all our
regrets while love ones
lament on such a beautiful day
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rev: 03.03.2016
April 19th, 2016 at 3:48 pm
Keep on writing! I love your poems be it tragedies or not. 🙂
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April 19th, 2016 at 3:53 pm
S.H. Thank you so very kindly. So appreciative to receive feedback!
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