The room was empty on myday, full of stale air, I cannot fly my wings are clipped and the wax just dripped. Look around all I see is the Stare and some glare, feel like a sick child on a roller coaster ride. Lost all but my pride, when all I really needed was u by my side. No family to see just a bunch of people, no me. The caged bird will not sing and will not bring the branch. The collards will just have to blanch. I need a vacation and my own ranch, time by myself watch the dust gather on my minds shelf. Watch the sun go down from high above. I no longer believe in a White Dove and have nothing but one dirty glove. Write poetry and be at peace. No more fun in the sun, time to pack up and run. I need some release from this peace and chicken grease must cease. I Fire before I expire bfor I tire and no longer desire. Chris Theyerl Black Sheep.
Posted on: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 05:33:33 +0000
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