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I picked a daisy when I was seven,
I remember offering it to this God.
"If I could only have one thing,
I would like to be able to sing,
And if it's not to much to ask,
Don't let me forget the past."
Well maybe I still can't sing,
But at least I can talk and shout,
Pick up a pen and write a poem,
About the past I know nothing about.
Comments (2 Comments)
- no vocals - 10/05/2009
- I think I understand it. I'd talk even more but I don't want to start blabbering on and on about knowing and thinking. 5/5.
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- Panic Pirate - 09/29/2009
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This reminds of of old-style poems that my mum would read to me when I was little and as you get older, you discover darker and more subtly powerful meanings to them.
Aaah, returned high-five for the loss of inspiration, but you seem to be still writing amazing poems!
To be honest, most of what I've written in my notebook are getting more lyrical in a way. :/
Keep writing, you're much too talented to lose even a single molecule of the creativity you have smile - Report As Spam
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