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Secrets to The Broom
We met in late June,
Back when the Wicked witch still had her Broom.
Making poisons and potions,
She tried to stop our emotions.
The beginning of August,
The fear and pain had left us.
Listening to sin just to call our cues,
Wasting my time tracing your tattoos.
Fresh in November,
We were up to surrender.
Hanging our heads in endless shame.
If only we knew we weren't the ones to blame.
Late in January,
Our lungs were airy.
Our blood was blue,
Cause only our words are true.
Mid of May,
Something was taken away.
My vision was clear.
Your eyes filled with tears.
We met in late June,
And i miss the smell of your perfume.
Lying awake at night,
Because the Witch cut the strings to my kite.[/font]
Back when the Wicked witch still had her Broom.
Making poisons and potions,
She tried to stop our emotions.
The beginning of August,
The fear and pain had left us.
Listening to sin just to call our cues,
Wasting my time tracing your tattoos.
Fresh in November,
We were up to surrender.
Hanging our heads in endless shame.
If only we knew we weren't the ones to blame.
Late in January,
Our lungs were airy.
Our blood was blue,
Cause only our words are true.
Mid of May,
Something was taken away.
My vision was clear.
Your eyes filled with tears.
We met in late June,
And i miss the smell of your perfume.
Lying awake at night,
Because the Witch cut the strings to my kite.[/font]
Published 20th Feb 2010
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20th Feb 2010 5:14am
I lvoe the meaning behind this poem, and how you expressed it so well.
The last stanza is wicked
great work
The last stanza is wicked
great work
20th Feb 2010 7:46pm
