I, by Broken-Hearted Angel. |
I sit, I wait, I contemplate, a thousand ways to die. I live, the past, that soon outlasts, the tears I fail to cry. And soon, my breath, gives way to death, and no one wonders why. |
Posted: 2005-11-05 18:19:53 UTC |
This poem has no votes yet. | To vote, you must be logged in. |