Death
I am talking to you,
on the table.
You don't give an answer,
don't even move your lips.
I am talking to you,
just like every day,
but yuo don't give an answer,
you will never do.
I am talking to you,
I will untill my death,
but you haven't got an answer,
will you ever have?
I am talking to you,
I am touching your picture,
it feels cold and death,
will never answer anymore.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| All I want to do is be more like me and be less like you: | Donderdag, juni 02, 2005 12:26 |
| mooi! | |
| Anne berends: | Donderdag, juni 02, 2005 08:33 |
| heej floortje, zeer mooi gedicht! mooi verwoord. liefs, |
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Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: KillingAngel |  
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| Gecontroleerd door: Sheena | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 02 juni 2005 | ||
| Thema's: | ||