Is It Poetry
Many like we, I came before.
In single file under the eye,
watchful of your every move.
Howling outside the wind blows.
Being not dead our heads are shaved.
Nothing from something some get.
Pin points of light turn into night.
Into the void called a grave.
Face to face with the one none have names.
If I can't come when you call out to me.
Be naught to them seem afraid.
Barred window's the shower lost family friends.
Woman have rights thine men lost the fight.
Early to rise soft the bed.
The earth cries out like never before it is full.
Is It Poetry's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Laughing Sinners by Is It Poetry )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley