Swings Poem, by Cali Kittana, at My poetic side

I stick my thumbs in my pockets and kick up another stone...
They tore inspiration out of me to the bone...
I see an oen swing, free and cold...
I run to it like a pile of gold...
I walk through the park to go home...
After I have lost the urge to rome...
When I get back,
I wait for the attack,
Knowing I had been gone too long,
I sigh and wait for punishment for my wrong...
I sit down and sigh knowing I'm strong...
Thinking this will all turn into a song...

Author: Cali Kittana (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
Published: July 27th, 2013 08:58
Comment from author about the poem: Basically, it's about a misunderstood musician, and how, they spend time at the park to forget about what they've done to upset someone, or, how they like to waste away their time on a swing, remembering what it was like to be a kid, with slim to no worries at all... I wrote this a little about myself, because, of how, I turn most of my bad experience into either a poem or part of a song, and, how, I escape my worries when I'm swinging on a swing...~
Category: Unclassified
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