Through the dusty window I look
Down to see the babbling brook
The window is cracked and worn
Same as my cloths weathered and torn
Though I look at the sky
Wishing I could fly
Out of my cage
Across the page
Of my story
It and all it's glory
There is no way to help me
No way for me to be free
From my pain
Behind the window
And the deep dark world called home
YOU ARE READING
Not Something to Write Home About
PoésieThis is a book of all the poems I have written. You can read them all or you can flip through the titles till you find one that floats your boat. I will continue to upload as a write and as a feel like it at the time of me writing this i have a tota...
