Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
I'm busy, go away
After hours,
Your voice askew.
A mighty tower
With such a view.
This half-dead brain
Not full of use.
Instead falls rain
And verbal abuse.
Blood stained eyes,
They cannot see.
Mouth full of goodbyes,
A sensible plea.
I am mourning dew.
So brief and clear.
With a purple hue,
I can almost hear.
11-12-09
Your voice askew.
A mighty tower
With such a view.
This half-dead brain
Not full of use.
Instead falls rain
And verbal abuse.
Blood stained eyes,
They cannot see.
Mouth full of goodbyes,
A sensible plea.
I am mourning dew.
So brief and clear.
With a purple hue,
I can almost hear.
11-12-09
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
I`m busy, go away
I`m busy, go away
