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#1
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A little surrealist poem that I wrote once.
My face on the wall, Framed and hung there to watch. Singing songs of the past, But saying nothing at all. It's just another day And I can't remember how it starts. My face on the wall, Watching the world fall apart. Telling tales of the past, Yet doing nothing at all. It's just another day And I can't remember how it ends. My face on the wall, Framed for posterity. Showing signs of the past, Yet not helping at all. It's just another day And it's faded from my memory. |
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#2
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i know ive said this before but... you should definitly get something published!! you could do like a book of poetry of something...
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#3
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Perhaps I will one day, but for the moment I just like sticking them all on the internet and reading the nice comments I get!
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