| 10:33a |
Just a poem..or is it?
There are tiny holes
All in my soul
White, black, it doesn't matter
And every day, someone
Anyone really,
Takes a little piece.
But then there are those
Who take those pieces
and my peaces
On purpose
And nothing ever happens
They keep living their
Lives
As though they haven't taken
Peaces of mine (yes, spelled that way)
I want them back
The ones taken deliberatly
The ones taken in anger
Or ..no, it's all anger
Of one kind or another
I want those back
They are Mine
And YOU
Had no right
to take them. |