Art Box Poems

In the witching hour each night
I feel I'm not alone
It's not a case of fear or fright
But I'm shivering down to my bone
...

Standing high
Letting the mist cloud my body
Thinking back
Good times
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I walk along the deserted highway
A princess amongst the famined ruins of the world
Not wanting to be a part of what mankind hath ruined
They have had two thousand years to repent
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Pray tell wise one for I can see
A waltzing mouse dancing to me
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Is there something I do
That makes you want to believe I never existed?
I there something I say
That makes you forget my presence?
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