What is that sound?
My eye's look all around.
A very quiet song.
Tells of something wrong.
Very little to see.
Maybe it's just me.
People with an empty pocket.
Pull the plug, from the socket.
Road rage of a peoples daze.
My mind looks, a haze.
These must be the crying days,
No, GUTTER TRASH, empty road maze.
9/21/2009 POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem