Eight Poem by Fumz Yam
Eight
I'm running
The only thing I can think of
I've been held down by you
The only thing left to say is goodbye
You've kept me warm, but I'd rather be cold
I'm tired of be tired
And I'm burning you out
My lungs fill with air
Blood is moving faster than ever
I'm tired but on my own accord
There is pain but I can push through
It was natural for you be here
I let my guard down
My Self control will set me free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 8:04:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
