Privilaged

Learn more about other poetry terms

To be small in a world of giants Is to be ignored of your affairs   While your soul is heated by the flame Their hair blows in the crisp morning air   As the giants tower with their heads held high
  Dip into the creek  Water pours over me  You get cold from the glacier stream  I get warm from the volcanic spring  Water run over me  Water runs into you  You get stuck I get freed 
Subscribe to Privilaged