To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
one hundred and twenty three days Ten years now, creeping in steps between knowing and unknowing yet it drips the sight of everything falling waste of energy waste of soul waste of effort to make what is all around proud There is a pride I went hunting for and all along the elf at my gate, that I left ten years ago, is there still sitting He is the pride I went hunting for funny, but obvious to go to the moon and back again to finally know his name Now, he is mine forever so cute is he to have the microphone ready for me to say everything that needs to be said, everything I should've been saying Elfman to my rescue he is ten years now sitting but it's over, the search He is here, no longer waiting |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!