A poem about rhyme A poem abou time What can you say About their little fray Thee is never time

They say she died tragically It’s sad to see a

i’m tired of this old pain i face day by day it’s time that i should leave but i’ve

gossamer wings hiding the black soul underneath crystal eyes hiding the dark pit behind if you could see the

I’ve probably had about ten shots now trying to drown out her memory We left under harsh words, tears, and shouts

The wind blows softly across the meadow carrying the whispers of tomorrow’s sorrows If you listen closely

The constant ruckus The constant noise When will it stop When will it cease When will i finaly

i’ve never met somebody who set my blood on fire quite like this with flames moving throughout my body

They always ask is the wight jacket comfy are the wight walls conferring And always I

There is a boy sitting in a corner He is diffrent than other people and They leave him behind

Blood flow freely flow until i have no more to give Flow until you have

i’ve got to many images and words in my own head a part of me