Tales from the simple sky
Mighty winds blow the mindsof restless words
seeing, feeling.
Later years is a dying kind
nothing there, just rubbish, I cry.
Freedom is paid for,
those who have the cash win
freedom is a lost hope.
Freedom costs, and so do lives.
Poetry by Poe_t
Read 695 times
Written on 2005-12-06 at 22:51
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