Through it all I sailed,surviving on hard-tacks
The surging waves,the roaring winds
I withstood 'em all,'the why me' thoughts,
at times never
allowing me catch any sleep,
As if they were me,they'd began
writing my story
Inscribing words to torment my little soul,
In their book,
They'd smeared me with infamy
Had He run out of ink?But no, I was wrong
He'd began re-writing,my story
Using a rare ink,known by none
It's source unknown
Not even by the greatest authors,ever known
An ink never erasable, it's contents could
Only be read and comprehended by me
I'm in page one and all I see is greatness
It's a mystical book,what's more thrilling,
is it's cover page, It's entitled...
"It has just begun"
YOU ARE READING
IT'S YOU
RandomA poetry collection... DEAR POETRY BOOK Into you my words I pour My distress,happiness and more I hold you dear For you are always here Into your arms take me For your humble friend I'll be My book says thank you To you I'm grateful too My sweet rea...
