Goodbye , . . .
Yes goodbye . . .
(Blah , blah , blah)
In the shortness of his breath
All desperation was taking place
I walk off
Looking at the far off , into space
The game is over
Nobody . . . no one
Scored and won
We all lost . . .
The then ,
In a notebook
While sitting on the park bench
Where he once was
A poet king
The old man jots down
(A poem about lost youth
Past days and dreams of
better days to come)
Meanwhile . . .
The sun crossed the sky
East to West
And the day was never seen
Or heard from again
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Goodbye , . . .
Yes goodbye . . .
(Blah , blah , blah)
In the shortness of his breath
All desperation was taking place
I walk off
Looking at the far off , into space
The game is over
Nobody . . . no one
Scored and won
We all lost . . .
The then ,
In a notebook
While sitting on the park bench
Where he once was
A poet king
The old man jots down
(A poem about lost youth
Past days and dreams of
better days to come)
Meanwhile . . .
The sun crossed the sky
East to West
And the day was never seen
Or heard from again
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