The Poet

by pieces of joshua   May 16, 2011


Years and years he waited for;
the call that never came.
He's listening to the low moan of;
the dial tone again.

An epic etched across the wrists;
with sleeves stained red he hides.
The poem lives inside his head;
the poet lives a lie.

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Latest Comments

  • 14 years ago

    by Lady Nik

    I agree with my friend above. Such a simple poem but you words express something much more complicated. Thanks for sharing. -Nik

  • 14 years ago

    by Acoustic Odyssey

    Heartwrenching, and well penned. Your words have made me speechless, quite literally. Brilliant work!
    Take care

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