Discussion in 'Poetry' started by mystiblu, Jan 15, 2009.

  1. mystiblu

    mystiblu Member

    i miss the days when we were younger
    hand in hand
    i miss the comfort we had
    no one was forgoten
    the friendship was free
    all the weed
    became the seed
    to build our friendship
    then bury it underground
    i want to go back
    i need to be held,
    even just to belong
    a singe whisper of that love,
    of that bond
    lost in shards
    through townsfolk lawns

    misunderstanding with a coat of incensitivity
    will surely be the death of me.
    pouring words from my heart
    hope theyre heard by my home

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