How must art thou feel if art thou cannot feel pride, guilt, nor shame?
In the past and the future there is both, for one's love makes itself just the same
In times of greed and guilt there are moments of breif poorness breaking you away
At times such as these your mind casts off into great distance leaving you with nothing to say
Thinking of words that haven't been spoken is an imposterous thing to do
It's like trying to create love that isn't there as if you were learning something new
Throughout centuries and ages, throughout years monthes and long periods of time
We've concluded a conclusion that love is our crime
View User's Journal
I write poems and random thoughts here
Community Member