Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A Change

A daisy in the sunlight of the day;
Its pedals speak of love and life and spring.
The April month will soon turn into may.
The trees, in growth, will add another ring.

Behold, a cloud is taking out the sun.
A tear falls down my shadow-laden cheek.
A joyful time, I surely know of none.
The past and all that follows is so bleak.

I scream but no one hears my painful call;
I yell, my mind is slowly going mad.
Upon the road, I see a young girl’s doll;
It now belongs to no one; life is bad. 

The skies are red; they are so blood, blood red.
The golden age, I tell you, it is dead. 

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