The Grey Faces
Cadence after cadence echoes through my head, now they seem unreal.
I was marching forward calling them out without my controlling it.
I look around and all I see is the grey faces blankly staring foward in unison.
My actions are not my own, nor will i get to make my own.
Maybe my complaints don't help the situation.
But what am i supposed to do with my head let my thoughts echoe and die.
NO, I will not let that happen. My thoughts are my own, my one true possession.
They may take my name, they may label me a number, but MY THOUGHT ARE MY OWN.
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hbworth
As a young guy sometimes i feel like there is a lot of pressure on me. Writing poems helps me ease a lot of my stress. i love to make fictional characters and tell their lives through these poems.
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