Monday, 14 November 2011
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
My Plea Each Night
“A few need you, never will deserve.
The lonesome lane that you tread,
Nothin’ of your past may do you wish to remember.
With eyes closed, visioned dreams battered,
And disappointments that you gathered along.
They open wide only when fear grips the insides.
A few, awfully few, have foreseen you to be somethin’
For them, you never give up.
Rather walk a life of high-paced bid,
Until, death does you apart from the darkness you embrace”
Staring out at the streetlight high, every night.
This is your prayer to the good God up above
Your pulse raging. The fluorescent, a spotlight.
[Can he at least see the real you?]
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