Whats a storm
and whats a fire
when the norm
is nothing but cold hard sapphire?
when the heart bleeds from red to blue
then alls that left is but a clue
an echo; something that might have been
but never quite to be seen
what is left; an old tattoo
one which should be taboo
but thread it may be
to the soul, it speaks volumes.
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Friday, December 12, 2008
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