Polka dots upon her shirt
and dead words in her hands.
Dead words in her hands.
No child understands.
Minds may drift, their shells will hurt,
an ache such speech demands.
Words will flow then disappear
and leave no fading gleam.
Leave no fading gleam,
no beauty, no esteem.
No sounds exist (to please the ear)
from heads which cannot dream.
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
Polka dots upon her shirt
and dead words in her hands.
Dead words in her hands.
No child understands.
Minds may drift, their shells will hurt,
an ache such speech demands.
Words will flow then disappear
and leave no fading gleam.
Leave no fading gleam,
no beauty, no esteem.
No sounds exist (to please the ear)
from heads which cannot dream.
An original work of A.K. Neu. Please do not steal.