Patching Up This Hole That Brings A Terrible Cold, by Tim Pozzi Subscribe to rss feed for Tim Pozzi

i know of a place
where i'm dying to fit
you're dying to live
and we're all struggling,
together...
upon the wasteland
and the scolded eyes
tell fickle stories
that bind our hearts
and set ablaze our follies
to emotion's end
in this pit, 
you'll stand tall and wide
and figure the moon
on it's ride back to earth
but the sun don't shine anymore,
the sun won't fly anymore...
Posted: 2007-03-29 17:18:01 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.

2007-04-19 20:22:12Angel of Music
Great job!