Poem Hunter
TIR ( / )


Even you might now have guessed
I really haven't got a door
There's just a bloody mess
Scattered all about my floor

I'm a naked man of bones
And I'm sorry, nothing more
I just appear to make the music
forever… evermore

The Other could be blooming
Sitting smartly in it's pot
It admires and it pants at me
But it helps me not

As I sit here in a puddle
While my treasure's staying dry
I would use them as a plug
Had I not a button in my eye

They attend just out of reach
Hanging just a bit too high
So are the many others
Couldn't reach them if I tried

Its all been sucked away you see
You're just a bit too late
For all that remains of me
Lies on the wall or in the crate

User Rating: 4,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

agree with jon LuV VidZ
Don't claim to understand it all, but it really speaks to me. More power.
i like it. Love the ryme Lylyanna