Post by Gerrit Cole on Mar 10, 2015 0:37:22 GMT -5
River, I'm very sorry for what I did. I know I'm writing poetry, But I shall soon be dead. So, please read this, and I hope you'll feel better.
River.
A beautiful, flowing stream.
A running flow of emotions.
From the way I look at her,
She becomes a piece of me,
And earns a place in my heart.
For one may not know,
The beauty of the River.
The River can be good, or bad.
Good or bad, one may never know...
Yet as I sit here,
Writing away,
I think of you,
Pretty and beautiful as always,
Sitting there, writing, too.
For one may not know,
The wrath of the River,
For the wrath has left a whole in me.
There will be a spot for you,
There will always be.
I think back now,
And start thinking,
"Why write, when I have a mouth and mind?"
The truth is...
One does not speak through the mouth and mind.
He only causes trouble.
Yet the one who writes,
Can erase, and rewrite.
River.
A beautiful flowing stream.
A desolate line of water.
Tears down a face.
Streams of beauty,
Reflected in the sunlight.
So now, if I may ask,
Do you accept my apology?
Or leave it be?
The truth may never be spoken...
A beautiful, flowing stream.
A running flow of emotions.
From the way I look at her,
She becomes a piece of me,
And earns a place in my heart.
For one may not know,
The beauty of the River.
The River can be good, or bad.
Good or bad, one may never know...
Yet as I sit here,
Writing away,
I think of you,
Pretty and beautiful as always,
Sitting there, writing, too.
For one may not know,
The wrath of the River,
For the wrath has left a whole in me.
There will be a spot for you,
There will always be.
I think back now,
And start thinking,
"Why write, when I have a mouth and mind?"
The truth is...
One does not speak through the mouth and mind.
He only causes trouble.
Yet the one who writes,
Can erase, and rewrite.
River.
A beautiful flowing stream.
A desolate line of water.
Tears down a face.
Streams of beauty,
Reflected in the sunlight.
So now, if I may ask,
Do you accept my apology?
Or leave it be?
The truth may never be spoken...
