Poem -

12:24 PM

12:24 PM

I see too many misfortunes. Broken people , cracked hearts . Grip so tight , what is free ? 

As you approach my stoop , you enter a cess pool , why you look at me diseased ? 

I never known of gold to root itself and shade the people . To pick my fortune in the garden , I never knew .

Our lives are not equally rehearsed , we all return to dust , pull me away lonely hearse .