cloudy, says my eyes rainy, says my brain as i overlook passing on the track, the train in my own mind i am god i created and prorated i made dust and sod i sat here on this trestle and breathed in the cold air that i am so sure of myself?? rare i shall not return to this hill i called home i shall not return to the astrodome in fact, i wait for time to stop and i stare at the horseman's riding crop maybe i'm wrong but in my own mind i sit alone on the continental bind and it bears thinking that i made birds fly so it incurs that in my own mind i cannot dieBirth sign: Aries
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by antwan fields.