Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2010
On and On he travels, but will go no where.
On and On he looks, but will see nothing,
On and On he searches, but will find nothing but death.
On and On he remains, vunerable,
To Death's reaching grasp.
Written by
Maggie
464
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems