As i sit by my window sill, window open,i hear all types of noises filled of wonder,trying to find the right words to use in the world,i am writing this with tired sorrow eyes,by my window sill sitting still,for its the middle of the night and all i can do is sit still by my window sill and ponder,wonder about if you are siting by your window sill hearing the nosies of the night looking up so bright,but all i can do is sit here by the window sill and dream of that bright sunny day where i last saw you,but my window sill is just sitting here,as we both gather dust without making a fuss,my lugs are tired my heart full of woe sitting by my window sill,listening to the wind.as i hear the clicking of my keyboard,flicking my fingers,i can feel the sorrow my window sill has,never moving,never leaving,staying in that spot of the rest of its life,and maybe its for the best.my window sill hears every thing,and sees every thing from the inside to the out,as i sit by my window sill,window open,i heard everything and closed my eyes and slowly the sounds come to a stop....
A/N: I wrote this in the middle of the night but i posted this in the morning bc I wrote this on google docs and got too lazy to put it on wattpad so here,this one was not that good but ya hope you like :) I feel bad for my window sill. Plz vote and follow
YOU ARE READING
poetry for the village known as the great world
Poetrypoetry that i wrote bc i would like to be poet.this book most likely wont end bc my love of poetry wont come to an end
