Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2014
He was always there for me
when I was sad
he would pick me up
and cheer me up.

He was always beside me,
when I turned my right
he was there, when I
turned left, he was there.

He knew what I wanted
to say before I said it.
He knew me like the
back of his hand.

He was mine to own.
His name was poetry.
ConstantEscape
Written by
ConstantEscape  escaping reality
(escaping reality)   
255
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems