Sometimes I ask myself, is this it?
Is this all there is to me?
Is this the best it can ever be?
What is the purpose my life?
What do I have that will bring me before great men?
After you meet me will you remember my name?
Or is the way you see me and how you see the rest the same?
Hey!
Share your thoughts, and don't forget to vote! Thank you!
YOU ARE READING
The Voice of My Silence
PoetryThe words that he spat germinated and grew into the tree that overshadowed him What goes around.. From the author: vote and comment if you like what you see
