to cut of my hands so i no longer can dance
with the man made of gold, who also no longer dances a pau de deux in the candlelit room.
the world is made into that of a conflicting statement.
every step east will take you westward, not as the wanderer wishes, which is truly north, despite what he claims.
a canvas laid blank until the picture printed inner
delight at the time a new leaf was turned,
just as believers fall fast into sinners,
their punishment be righteous, their fate be earned.
END
well, there you have it. a poem thingy that sounds like one of the ones you read in school. one of the ones you get tested on. yuck. although i do like this one. a rhyme scheme was becoming to controlling. minus the end, this is one step closer to true free verse
KurtWilder2027
Awesome.
redjokerx
thanks