myself

March 6, 2016

If i were stuck in an island

desserted by fear

hopesly attach by my own gear

Id have nothing, nothing to hear

nothing to eat, desserted on an island

without life to live, as i walk the beach

Id bring one thing, one thing that keeps me alive

one thing until survival comes among athousand seas

Id bring a pictures of myself

As to know i was never forgotten

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.