Rules are Rules
Rules are rules,
Like not breaking them;
Signs don’t speak
But yet is clear.
Times are sour,
Dark and empty;
Stare from top the tower-
The ugliness of pity.
Which is wrong
Stealing or choosing?
Life is short
And souls are losing.
Don’t want, don’t won’t
It heals quick the wound;
Yet the heart says it’s in love.
A wonder has begun,
That of the sun;
Yes, it shines
But never smiles.
When temper is lost,
Same goes a friend;
It gets even worse
As a broken heart still bend.
The offence has grown,
The land is alone;
So it’s been newsed
Bribe, hands, no longer fuse.
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Comments about this poem (Rules are Rules by JOSEPH ABUTU )
- cliché, xxx xxx
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1927)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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