cbezz
Words, so silky soft and smooth I yell them them from an old brick roof They form a sentence in the night A sentence, trying, to make things right But what is gone is forever lost And put beneath, the cold, white frost I want it back, back …
Poems on a wall, 'bout summer, winter, spring and fall. Quite simple, they are all, like those you'll find at nearest mall. But there's more to those of mine, 'cause even if the mass-produced are fine, they're cold and heartless, just made …
Clouds, dark and grey. Heavy, but still so light. Only water. Small, small drops. Just hanging there. In the air. Then, they fall. The clouds fall into rain. I fall into pain. 'Til the sun comes again.