A Little Bit of Poetry
The Child I once was and knew oh so well
Has faded into a harden shell
I won and lost a battle here and there
But, yet the war it rages everywhere
My wisdom; please do learn and over rate it
And yet, still others will always debate it
Faithful trust, just turned into holy rust and dust
Life was DE-veined, derailed, just a bust
I must, I must, I must
Postponed and deflated
Under rated I am lost; Twas some others fate
I entered into life; a little less, then late
Who dare try such a thing?
Whom could bare such; without heavenly wings?
Debased I cannot sing
Gone now to Is my wedding ring
With Burning Passions I am
Set a blaze; my internals yet rage
Bones and flesh are melted, as the Ice
I take one more hit, a final slice
Fathers and mothers now erased
A child left without a face
Flames grown cold and have over whelmed
Limbs reached, but yet deformed; and I burn, I squirm
I did forget that the flames rage was hot as hell
Yet still it was I that was not Burned
Sirens sound, fires flame
The loneliest of hues
The absence of my lovelies colors
My heart it is turning to ash
And I thrash and I thrash
Whilst I listen to the raging flames
The Fire Engines singing their Blues
My child's hood is now gone, forever gone
A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man
CONTEMPORARY FINDS FOR MODERN TOTS
Has faded into a harden shell
I won and lost a battle here and there
But, yet the war it rages everywhere
My wisdom; please do learn and over rate it
And yet, still others will always debate it
Faithful trust, just turned into holy rust and dust
Life was DE-veined, derailed, just a bust
I must, I must, I must
Postponed and deflated
Under rated I am lost; Twas some others fate
I entered into life; a little less, then late
Who dare try such a thing?
Whom could bare such; without heavenly wings?
Debased I cannot sing
Gone now to Is my wedding ring
With Burning Passions I am
Set a blaze; my internals yet rage
Bones and flesh are melted, as the Ice
I take one more hit, a final slice
Fathers and mothers now erased
A child left without a face
Flames grown cold and have over whelmed
Limbs reached, but yet deformed; and I burn, I squirm
I did forget that the flames rage was hot as hell
Yet still it was I that was not Burned
Sirens sound, fires flame
The loneliest of hues
The absence of my lovelies colors
My heart it is turning to ash
And I thrash and I thrash
Whilst I listen to the raging flames
The Fire Engines singing their Blues
My child's hood is now gone, forever gone
A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man
CONTEMPORARY FINDS FOR MODERN TOTS
Source: Babygadget
