The sights, the sounds
My barefeet on the ground.
My thoughts, my memories
Everything thats special to me.
The cool wind, the smell
My own personal hell.
Times im angry, times im sad
Time well spent, time spent bad.
An innocence thats lost
Like the plants killed by frost.
I could jump, I could fall.
I could just leave it all,
Behind for change....
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Author:
StephenJames (
Offline) - Published: January 24th, 2019 23:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: sylviasearcher
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