My neck is bowed
my head is hung
i'm a school child
on the run
lift the whip
slap my wrist
tie me up
i writhe and twist
gentle flower
rip the pedals
pull the stamen
and the pistols
gun-shoot-fire
reloads
only time will
lift your load
i've been thinking
of the rain
wishing it would
wash away this pain
you tell me now
to let you in
i'm afraid
that you'll begin
to rot inside me
like a bone
i need the marrow
but not the stone
that would replace my heart
if you were dwelling inside
my neck is bowed
my head is hung
i'm a weeping school child
on the run
This poem has been copyrighted and any and all copying is illegal without written consent from the author.
-By Lisa
