ADRIFT, with my chaotic struggles,
i collapse into a bipoler ghetto, and
find broken strings, and dirty books,
and a friend with black smoke....
ADRIFT, into the night, i fall like
a failing priest, and wait for the
the free gift of love........
adrift no more.........
Comments about this poem (Bipoler by david gerardino )
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