woe is me
the past is pastand the now can't last
time flies fast
and the stones i've cast
make the future a suture
on the scars of the present
in this kingdom of kings, i'm a peasant
it's not pleasant
my castle is ramshackle, in the woods
my sceptre a stick from a tree
i'd change the world if i could
it's hard enough being me
i follow a meandering path
stepping aside to avoid wrath
but only into a puddle of pee
oh, woe is me
bad luck, or no luck,often dumbstruck
head lice, rats, mice, a dog in my bed
dreaming of loveing a woman instead
this is really not the way
don't really know how to say
this...
i guess i'm busy braiding rope
getting stronger as it gets longer, i hope
i'll not tie a noose yet
not willing to let
darkness overcome
Poetry by solomonstorm
Read 531 times
Written on 2011-03-22 at 15:19
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