I, fall shortly of success
Even with all this freedom and chance
All wasted time and space
Talent, is not one(but determination)
And I, was given fear and a gun;with bullets for plenty
With nothing less of pure thought alongside self indulgence
Emptiness of course was around
But I would never fall shortly of myself
YOU ARE READING
There Is Apparently Limits On What Titles Can Be, Even For Poems
PoetryI write poems. If you like poems or need to kill time, read this. Don't steal my poems. Thank you.
