A poem about rhyme A poem abou time What can you say About their little fray Thee is never time
You sit in a corner and nobody sees the bloody tears running down your face For the pain you’ve
I sit amongst a group of people not saying a word they do not
Plip, plop the blood drops Tick, tock goes the clock Ding, dong
maybe it’s all in my head that the world is really this crue… perhaps they are right that I need to let go but i can’t make myself do it
I don’t have any words left to write so why do I even bother trying I have felt so
the ground begins to tremble with the power of her anger the choices
Who am i to you? Am i boy or girl? Am i life
A stranger standing In a street full Of people yet Can’t find himself People stand and
They call her the barefoot princess A princess that despises her royal gown No shoes and
I still don’t see your fascination… i don’t even know what drew you in… in my mind i always compared you t… not one-hundred percent ruthless a… but able to see enough into the da…
no words to express to screwed up in the head don’t know what to say have nothing to explain for once words fail me
Most of what i wright comes from inspiration from the world around me What others are
Have you ever seen the gleaming wight teeth floating by your head Or the glowing red eyes underneath your bed