Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
the sun is a halo over the steeple blinding cast on the winter snow most are confused by a peaceful sleep quiet now or the reality will show is this how life as an insider looks? like disciples, they gather only to disperse loud sheep, starving up out of my seat, walk fast past the pews stained glass windows, cold smelly books in brown wooden rooms through the wet white terrain where everything sparkles like crystals my knees were bleeding, i cried take me home, take me home
0
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 9:27 AM UTC
Mass On Saturdays
the sun is a halo over the steeple blinding cast on the winter snow most are confused by a peaceful sleep quiet now or the reality will show is this how life as an insider looks? like disciples, they gather only to disperse loud sheep, starving up out of my seat, walk fast past the pews stained glass windows, cold smelly books in brown wooden rooms through the wet white terrain where everything sparkles like crystals my knees were bleeding, i cried take me home, take me home
Rose-mary
Written by
American
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 9:27 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem