everything else packed neatly away
there is a lot of nothing to be done
as I bask in this warm, warm sun
ln this whiter shade of pale
as the darkness slips then fades
the loudest words it seems I read
are the ones that do not ever get said
you can scream from mountains high
or whisper them in dead of night
when you're laying all alone
wondering if the truth was told
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
No comments:
Post a Comment