For I may never see the truth
I am not a saint
I am not a perfect person
life burns the body
I am a believer
I get down on my knees
and pray all the time
I Am a sinner
I am but a lost soul
I am but a wilted flower
as I clasp my hands and grieve,
your voice plagues the heart
I am but a wilted flower
the anguish plagues
the pain plagues
washed away by life's constant toll
I am but a broken dream
I am but a wilted flower
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Author:
Mark The Phenomenon (
Offline) - Published: March 4th, 2023 02:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
I recognize the struggles of youth in these words. Again, well said dear poet.
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