You’re getting low on alibi,
And it’s no wonder, you’re going
Under
The waves.
...
She might be your guardian angel,
But I’m your shooting star.
You’re begging for a meteor,
And a new moon.
...
I saw her, there,
Pushing her hands out towards
The sleeting sky,
Never ending tears mingled with
...
I'm 16 years old and live in Southaven, Mississippi. I started writing poetry within my journals every night, and sent them to a friend of mine, who published them on his website. I have hundreds of poems around my house (somewhere) , but some are unworthy to be published. Enjoy!)
Alice
Sitting, shaking, blank.
She shrieks, unabashed horror,
He towers above.