POETRY

Sitting thinking what to write?

Death. 

Life.

Happy times? pulling through the grit and the grime,

trying to make it all rhyme.

Time passes not a thought.

i go and lay in my bed, read the poem over again.

Trying to get these emotions to fit.

Feeling your words within the lines.

Feel it in the pit of your stomach, brewing words and sending them up your spine.

It's all plain and simple...

Just words that matter to me, nobody agrees.

The reader forgets you............