Because Each Footstep Has-Been A Bequest
M
Mark Heathcote
0
Altın Yaprak
Anything is possible it's been said
If we go on living until we're dead
I didn't ask to be born a child scorns.
Always with parents wanting to lock-horns
Create open new wounds on old scares
Trick tempers into venting unawares
Vacant young eyes follow a yellow moon,
Ask why the stars are so widely bestrewn.
What isn't possible—unrequited love?
Surely not every thought and feeling corrupts
Tears must have fallen blessed where they rest.
Since all our footsteps have been a bequest.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş