2 With no purpose.
3 No emotion.
4 But liked a locked box thrown out.
5 To see waiting to be set free.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
1 It’s my blood ever so flowing in my veins.
2 With no сердце to насос it.
3 It turns into rhymes.
4 That form in my mind.
5 They flow like my blood.
6 Like a sweet wine.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
1 Ever slipping into my cold grave.
2 But longing for one еще taste of the suns sweet rays.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
1 When the moon shines on me my blood boils.
2 And I become cold as ice.
3 Turning into my darkness.
4 I have fully controlled it as I rise up.
5 I see the world and how slowly we are dying.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
2 Most not undone by human hands but by the gods.
3 They ride their steeds into our house.
4 They demand our pay.
5 And we give in.
6 They take what the poor have and what the rich get.
7 The government is the worst of all.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
1 Its like a river that flows.
2 But my poems are the water.
3 And people the stones.
4 Touched and unmoved by the powers of the words that flow.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
1 I can read the minds of all.
2 Much like a дерево can read the leaves from the earth to the sky.
3You are my roots built to hold and ever giving.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
1 Time, the flow that which I write rhymes for.
2 It doesn’t exist.
3 Its what we think is real.
4 But like we do with emotions the blood pours to the floor.
5 But like these words to the page from my mind they form.
6 And to Ты they are heard.
Written by Esmen Woodard on 3/17/11
