A flickering tongue of fire,
Warning me of pain; not desire.
A tiny little, puny flame,
Warning me not to play this game.
I'm concerned now, I'm worried.
I wonder if into pain I hurried.
What to do, how to stop it?
I don't like this one little bit.
YOU ARE READING
Where We Never Look--The Forgotten Places
PoetryThis is a Poetry Book that I've been working on for almost a year. I write random poems when I'm inspired, so I hope you enjoy! #825 in Poetry November 24, 2016 #351 in Poetry November 26, 2016 (!!!!!!) #350 in Poetry November 29, 2016 #284 in Poetr...
