The Runaway Thoughts

June 25, 2013

Teardrops running down my face

and life seems like a falling grace.

I take my pencil and a pen

and write down every step, and then...

THEN I know what I have done,

I let my feeling free to run.

To run all over from left to right,

yet stuck there with no place to hide.

Set free for all of those to see,

for all the ones that anger me.

I know, I know it's negative,

yet I have but alternatives.

And when I do, I write a lot.

I write about what's good and not.

Then, once read you realize it,

a poem is but a story of my life.

Life is a poem within itself.

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.