My dreams
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Your hands are tied
and i am blind
but i don't mind
that i will die
you can stamp and cry
you can sit and sigh
i don't think it's strange
that i've got dead eyes
A POEM
It’s not what I have read
What I have felt,
Words not said or loss of thy bread.
It is how it speaks to me
How it flows into a million ponds and then it’s gone.
I wish it would never leave.
We all get up, on the days, the music plays in our earsWe have no, where to go, the music keeps us flowThere's a morning, ba ba; Where we live, ba ba
