Learn more about other poetry terms
He was always warned That riches destroy But how can such greatness Turn out so sour? It brought prizes and happiness
Pour your heart out, bloody my hands caught red-handed in this wonderland selling fleeting feelings feigning meaning seeking depth in tides receding retrieving flotsom junk upon the shore
It'd make sense to sell books filled with psalms our love has inspired. Profit from the nonstop poems venting the glories I admired, But it's not worth a dime , not even a dollar,
You're a king on a golden throne, But you sit up there so alone That is not your a home. Sometimes, you step down among the other people And walk around But they do not wear your mighty crown
I'm a shadow in the dark. I've rode quiet in Noah's ark. I been to hell and back. There's no telling when I'll go back. I've seen the horrors on this earth. Mother's killing their own child they've birth.
Because the American Dream is hardly a dream Working two jobs, a nightmare it seems Bills upon bills, taxes upon taxes, Living middle class, far from the wealthy status.