by prernac
Published on: Feb 2, 2005
Type: Poetry

A truly troublesome day,
A dreary sleepless night.
A senseless bothersome existence,
Full of fearful wrongly right.
The sun that rose,
Did not shine.
The moon then drooped,
Over a living man's shrine.
Drumming the hours, all twenty-four,
Lacking a moment of peace.
Questions to be asked no more,
Another freedom deceased.

« return.