Sunday, October 2, 2016

Singing


Some songs are just too short
To tell my own story.
Bring back my dear cohort,
For I'm full of worry.
How may I write all these
And what things shall I miss?
 
Only to make it good
'Cause no one reads evil.
Bad things are not their food,
Them who wish to reveal
The hero within them,
From whom these stories stem.
 
Like stars in the night sky,
Migratory birds fly
Though the weathers deny.
 
I shall continue songs,
Making them very real
Like a dream that still longs;
It's a dream that can feel.
Don't you think nothing's wrong?
For I've made this new song.
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