Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2016
The inspiration died
When the summer ended
Now my poems are like the shirt that my dad needs mended
Ripped apart at the seams as if cotton blended
the Voice Without
Written by
the Voice Without  among the cornfields
(among the cornfields)   
323
   Desire and Andrew Name
Please log in to view and add comments on poems