The Unending

Unending...
Sharp humour doesn't work
Weak temper only hurts
A sound lashing flies away
Taking everything but the pain

It couldn't be easier to explain, my unending
It all comes down to this, my unending, my unending.

Do I begin...
Do I start within,
Do I hide it in, the sands? This my unending need for you?




Poetry by Bekim Rauseo
Read 809 times
Written on 2006-05-02 at 01:24

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