• the poet sings
    of dreadfull things
    for that is all he knows
    of dark winter days
    of hurt and betray
    for he walks alone
    he trusts no one
    for they haven't run
    his loney trail of life
    and so he writes
    of cold bleak nights
    to distract him from himself
    but he will find
    his heart and mind
    long for something else
    to fill the space
    in this endless race
    of what we call life
    for he never lived
    if all he gived
    where his sad and lonely poems