A rope of thorns at the top, A place where blood does not stop, In the pale moonlight, A dance commences, Stamping ground further down, Swaying back and forth, Beneath the silent watch, Of tall guardians, Never reaching the other side, For one cannot scale, A rope of thorns at top.
If one has paid any attention to the dates on my blog, and poetry, one sees a frightening trend... huge tracts of time between poems, and posts. What was the cause of this? Why none other than a blockage in thought, not in ability to write, or ideas for writing. Ah, but surely I must ...
Once a bright youth, Time has started its long toll, Where before there was dreams, People have done up crimes, The inevitabilty of humanity has resided in their hands. They who would be Kings and Queens off the back, Whether they withhold it, or CRUSH it, Still remains the same,
