breathing is a foreign task when thinking is just too much to ask you can place me up there on the shelf behind and place her unclothed in your mind she can be your toy and you will be the boy and you can play for hours while I’m the color of rust up collecting dust withering like drying flowers
the first four lines are lines from dashboard confessional's "the brilliant dance". i dunno if you meant to do that or not. ::shrug::
yes, I meant to... I was at my desk... drawing... and I wrote down this first line (I was listening to it at the time)... then I wandered and added something of my own, and i kinda liked it. Sue me?
nah i get about half my poems that way. i was just listening to that exact song when i clicked on your poem and i thought it was pretty spiffy.
I liked the descriptions, well played, I thought the beginning was a nice touch even though it is someone else's work but I'm glad u wrote the rest, keep it up, peace oh one more thing, how did ur name come about?
the only thing i dont like though a major ingredient in good poetry..........rhythm. It just doesnt flow very well. i dont know.
