In short comings, and of
sand
O how the waves wish to devour
land
as my neck stubbornly enforces
law
committing a crime, not armed at all
only to run a red light
Where is the glory?
Where is the fight?
A struggle for my name
showcased in neon light
In her eyes, there lies
nowhere
In romance, is there a care?
Not even a sigh?
A raise of your brow, or an attempt
at a lie?
Am I the waves that depend
on Luna at night?
O how I wish to not dare
but with hearts selling
by the pound
I break 'solemnly swear'
In this world, where love is
cheap
Don Juan's shoes should fit
but in the midst
of heart break kids
I refuse
with a fist
I am obligate to Shakespeare standard
Doesn't mean the worth is there
awkwardly never getting past
a stare
Maybe, my eyes are dry
How can I cry tears?
Absent of a holy ghost
when the end is near
What happens when
pick up lines choke?
Is it time to admit
we're broke?
Should I lie?
'I actually choose NOT
to wear a coat.'
As I go on
and on
and on
and maybe
a little further
on
With all the notes
all the crimes and lies
all the evidence which sits in
my chair
I am the waves and she
is my sand
and love, might actually
be there
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem