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wanderer-1Poems
But I can’t help it. My words form stanzas all on their own. And          jagged                   broken                lines. Prose. Sharp neat line after sharp neat line that goes on and on forever forming endless boxes of words how do I stop when do I breath where am I can you find me? Did you know. His eyes and your sky turn into my words and this is all I have. Poetry is all I have. Take it from me and all you will have will be cold frigid air.
0
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
You say no more poetry
But I can’t help it. My words form stanzas all on their own. And          jagged                   broken                lines. Prose. Sharp neat line after sharp neat line that goes on and on forever forming endless boxes of words how do I stop when do I breath where am I can you find me? Did you know. His eyes and your sky turn into my words and this is all I have. Poetry is all I have. Take it from me and all you will have will be cold frigid air.
Written by
wanderer-1
American
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
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