Note: No profile exists for this entry - most likely it was deleted.
Words that have no meaning
even to the ghost that speaks them
shadows of youth
lost in what might have been.
We are What?
Sons of the workers
Daughters of the flesh,
even the dreams die
before they are born.
Stillborn babies talking to me
Stillborn babies smiling at me.
<Deleted User> (5646)
Wed 19th Aug 2009 12:27
Oh yes! I like this very much. This is poetry i can relate to. Super. Well done!
Janet.x
The enigma of being human, eh? You capture that, elegantly and sadly, in this piece.
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
<Deleted User> (6484)
Sat 1st May 2010 15:49
Steve R, Janet, Steve B thanks for your comments.
Bernie