Fifteen years
The air is cold outside my box
Four walls, a window, and a door
Holds me in, a celing to keep
Rain off my head, and a bed.
The dressings were my sister's
But now she's gone away
She's the one with the black flease
I'm younger than my brother
He's younger than her too
Not many people in my family
Not enough to forget my kin
I can count my friends on one hand
And my enemies on the other
I cannot remember what I am doing
I may be writing a play
But no, the characters are living
And the plot goes on and on
Like every story there is a climax
But without action, put the book down
Fifteen year old sob story
Fifteen year old girl out of place
Fifteen years behind me
Another to smack my face
(jeweloftheknight, Tue 16 Aug 2005, 15:27, Reply)