Wednesday, October 22, 2003
My tots are a case of knives,
wounding my heart
With scattered smart,as watring pots
give flowers their lives.
Nothing can furie can control ,
while they do
wound n pink my soul.
My tots are like acid on the mere shell of a snail
carving out my only defence.
For storms n gales do blow
leaving me 'neath an emptiness abyss
of sorrow, misery and despair,
or endless challenges ?
wounding my heart
With scattered smart,as watring pots
give flowers their lives.
Nothing can furie can control ,
while they do
wound n pink my soul.
My tots are like acid on the mere shell of a snail
carving out my only defence.
For storms n gales do blow
leaving me 'neath an emptiness abyss
of sorrow, misery and despair,
or endless challenges ?
