Talking to myself through poetry
Home » Theme » Ode & Eulogy » December drivers
We are at the junction
We must apply caution
And not to be mentioned
As another lost soul
Life is not for auction
The brake has a function
There are many drivers
That drove in the summer
Stacking a lot of papers
Just to have a super
And beautiful winter
But bought a silent whisper.
Soon you will be off an infant cloth And may encounter storms, dust and rust Some achievements may seem a mirage Unachievable until success emerge…
Let the pages fly and spread their wings Let my spilled inks make millions to think It is plain and simple, hope it sinks “All…
Simple or made into an Elf What is music to a born deaf? Same question goes without tongues Pot or Chef, who spoilt the stock?…
It is no news that the pigs are fat As a result of the embezzlements Taking politics as a personal farm Eating from the labors…
