And I know there was
A little girl,
Blood on the wall, not dry yet
And the smell of flowers
In the air
Right there
In front of me
On the edge of my brain
And its possible the little girl
Is me
But I wouldn’t know
Surely not the one to ask
Someone else was there
With a viewpoint from above
And eyes
That I keep seeing through
The yellow taint of time
Covers the landscape of this dream
But the pain is new
Fresh and sharp
Like time passed over the scene
But not the evil
And if I close my eyes tighter
The hands of a thousand souls
Seem to reach in
And tear me apart
5/8/05 10:50pm
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2 comments:
I don't know how one can comment on anothers poetry, but I like this and if it's yours you need to keep at it, because this is very good. If it's not yours than continue to print the authors and when strangers happen by they will be impressed.
Thanks. It is mine. I just found it while browsing thru my old poems and I thought this one worked, so I put it up.
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