Subjective to the eyes upon words, poems are never
the same twice.
Quiet as snow fall you revealed the truest form of a self centered
Leaves fall in a similar pattern to unfamiliar words being recited
around an ever-
trusting ignorant society. Perhaps the "Road not Taken" is where
i shall resign
my poetic beliefs and live as a reborn gust of wind, blowing lives
directions. I have taken the time from time which has already
escaped my life
and given it too less of a friend, which became more of a burden.
out in every direction giving reason for blame when blame insults
essence of my reflection. One star permanently blazed into an
empty sky can
depend on me like clockwork, for I am the first to call criticism upon
"Frost" in the
winter. If it were truly that simple then the pen would lose it's importance
tool of our trade. Who said that brilliance was not born,
only created through
practice? Then would be the time too call yourself gifted.
A lifetime is lived "For
once, Then Something" and until time is chosen none will be revealed.
world; the sun will not shine without the loss of the moon,
the rain only falls upon
broken smiles, and the breeze is never as cold as "Frost".