Frigid howls of unsure places.
Sinister smiles of unkind faces.
A journey made at fates command.
Forged alone by times own hand.
I lay within my kingsize bed,
As prosperity and freedom hold rest my head.
Little King of Sorrows
Submitted: Thursday, May 02, 2013
Edited: Thursday, May 02, 2013
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Found some time to get back to writing more again.
Comments about this poem (Act 2 by Little King of Sorrows )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings