You’re getting low on alibi,
And it’s no wonder, you’re going
Under
The waves.
...
She might be your guardian angel,
But I’m your shooting star.
You’re begging for a meteor,
And a new moon.
...
I saw her, there,
Pushing her hands out towards
The sleeting sky,
Never ending tears mingled with
...
I'm 16 years old and live in Southaven, Mississippi. I started writing poetry within my journals every night, and sent them to a friend of mine, who published them on his website. I have hundreds of poems around my house (somewhere) , but some are unworthy to be published. Enjoy!)
Impulse And Burn
You’re getting low on alibi,
And it’s no wonder, you’re going
Under
The waves.
People see through the gusting wind,
Watch you struggle, shriek
And nothing,
Nothing to save you.
They know exactly what happened,
And laugh,
LAUGH,
Even she will laugh, hysterical,
She picks up your phone,
With an innocent,
“Hello? ”