Sunday, November 6, 2011


The bitter cold of loneliness;
Lies dormant in the air.
The warm embrace of love and joy;
found neither here nor there.

My father shouting, always mad;
I fear for him sometimes.
Alone, poor soul, to be taken;
When the bell of death chimes.

A lonely death is not for me;
I crave love without strife.
If no one misses me then what;
Have I done with my life?

Dolling out joy and calming peace;
These are meaningful deeds.
Life needs a purpose to live for;
I pray, my words, you'll heed.

No comments:

Post a Comment