Inspired by a poem by my little sister Janis Long.
I realize the pages are shrouded with white,
So I get my pen with blood as ink,
And write of things that I think,
I write my story with my blood,
As I swim against the flood,
As I write I reminisce,
My face is red I clench my fists,
I drop a tear maybe three,
Why do I feel this misery,
I've never known exactly why,
Pain and sorrow makes me cry,
I'll read my book once again,
As I do every now and then,
All my wounds with blood they shed,
Have helped me write this book of red.
Poetry by Justin
Read 489 times
Written on 2007-07-05 at 07:27
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Book of Red
As I stare at the book of life,I realize the pages are shrouded with white,
So I get my pen with blood as ink,
And write of things that I think,
I write my story with my blood,
As I swim against the flood,
As I write I reminisce,
My face is red I clench my fists,
I drop a tear maybe three,
Why do I feel this misery,
I've never known exactly why,
Pain and sorrow makes me cry,
I'll read my book once again,
As I do every now and then,
All my wounds with blood they shed,
Have helped me write this book of red.
Poetry by Justin
Read 489 times
Written on 2007-07-05 at 07:27
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Kathy Lockhart |
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Elle |
