My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning.
I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. (a bunch of poems)
Contact Form
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
I wish
I wish I could run away and hide
And only show myself when I write
Under a rock
Or from the mountain side
I wish I may
I wish I might
have the wish
I dream tonight
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.