Screaming from the claims,
yelling the rumors,
making the blames,
all were heart consumers.
History ablaze,
the fire rages on,
ignoring the days,
of all the happy dawns.
Held against at head-above,
may be there forever.
It will seem the love,
was never there whatsoever.
The clock will still tick,
and will come thoughts of the action.
A question will click:
"Was it worth the satisfaction?"
YOU ARE READING
CLUCK NO
PoetryA collection of both emotional and humorous poems about growing up and other frustrating parts of life that'll sound alright in your head, but just plain stupid out loud. !!!WARNING!!! This is not a compilation of chicken poems.
