It was quite a while
Since I wrote to you
I'll make up with a smile
And "how do you do?"
You see, I've been busy
Roaming round the streets
In this sleepless city
Of lies and deceits.
I longed for my pen
And my loot of ink
Missed going down my den
To write what I think.
But I have a story
I sure love to tell
A dash of honesty
It could ring a bell.
As I make my way
In this jungle of concrete
People live the day
With a dying spirit.
They tend for the future
And wake up tomorrow
Caged in a wicked culture
In the grayest limbo.
They don't sing the same
Nor dance the beat
They won't play the game
To warm their feet.
But the coldest truth
I've come to know
Is one to bear fruit
From a fear to grow.
Their hollow heart
Left the passion to write
Of how poems start
And end with might.
I'm stuck at a sea
Of wandering souls
A piece of humanity
In a thousand ghouls.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
It was quite a while
Since I wrote to you
I'll make up with a smile
And "how do you do?"
You see, I've been busy
Roaming round the streets
In this sleepless city
Of lies and deceits.
I longed for my pen
And my loot of ink
Missed going down my den
To write what I think.
But I have a story
I sure love to tell
A dash of honesty
It could ring a bell.
As I make my way
In this jungle of concrete
People live the day
With a dying spirit.
They tend for the future
And wake up tomorrow
Caged in a wicked culture
In the grayest limbo.
They don't sing the same
Nor dance the beat
They won't play the game
To warm their feet.
But the coldest truth
I've come to know
Is one to bear fruit
From a fear to grow.
Their hollow heart
Left the passion to write
Of how poems start
And end with might.
I'm stuck at a sea
Of wandering souls
A piece of humanity
In a thousand ghouls.