A passing touch across your face
I feel my eyes their frozen
As soft as silk and fine as lace
The freight trains coming closer
Sensation lost from my brain
I feel my breath is failing
The dream for the insane
When it's not rain it's hailing
We do not speak it has all been said
I feel my heart is aching
And all this time is in my head
A dream but not forgotten
Looking out for a sacred sign
All is well all is fine
I cannot lose what was never mine
Hold you close hold you tight
This wrong in which could not be right
Keep us hidden from truth's sight
YOU ARE READING
Soft Curses of Angels - Volume 1 - A Fistful of Dust
ŞiirThe earliest part of my chronological anthology of bad poetry. Estimated age at time of writing 12-16. I both thank and apologise to any soul who takes the time to read these.
