Regret
11 January, 2004
Author: Stacey
He runs his fingers
through his hair
Cool glass
against his lips
Throughout his life
you were not there
His life
has come to this
Detesting the wrath
that burns within
Slowly
ripping him apart
Why does he bother
living like this
Emptiness
fills his heart
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Comments on this poem/writing:
brandy (66.157.35.198) -- Tuesday, August 31 2004, 03:44 am hey this is a great poem |
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