The water strems down, Hitting things on its way down.
Pale cheeks with reddened eyes.
She sits there and crys and crys.
The dead man hears her silent scremas.
the boy she loves? He haunts her dreams.
She holds her heat in her hand.
Close it up,it turns to sand.
When you crack so much
you have to sadder.
She acts like nuthing is the matter.
All suger,no spice
Nuthing Ever Turns Out Nice.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Poetryi don't own any of the poetry and if i write one and put it on here i will tell you :P well um..hope you in joy!
