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When I was
a young boy (girl),
my father took me into the city
to see a marching band,
He said son (daughter)
when you grow up,
will you be the savior of the beaten
the broken and the damned,
dear father I never had,
how could I be the savior
of the beaten
the broken and the damned,
when I couldn't even be
the savior of myself.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Dance of Poetry
PoetryHere lies a genre of emotions a sad, twisted emphasis on time something about finding people (yourself) and letting your soul fly free. I hope every word lingers in your mind.
