A boy asked his mother
If anyone had claimed the skies
'No my boy. No one owns them.'
'Good. Nothing so beautiful deserves to be captured
In anything but a picuture or a lyrical form.'
The mother shoot her five year old son an odd look
And wondered what on earth he could have meant
Laying in his bed that night the boy saw a shooting star
He wished upon it that no one
Would ever be held captive again
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryI scream till my voice gives out Till my lungs cave in Till my heart beats like a drum Till the blood rushes to my face Till the silence afterwards makes me think I went deaf 'Cause I'm so used to the sound of my own pain I scream until my body stop...
