What is this inside,
Is it too willing too hide,
Can it be explained,
A piercing rain, A sleepless strain?
Minutes are drops,
And seconds are stains,
Sinners are locked,
To freedom and fame,
While I'm a rock,
Being tossed in flames,
Covered in moss
that sustains my name
I'm never lost
He knows no range.
Copyright © 2026 Mike Conway. All Rights Reserved