Pencilling

I write some poetry.
It doesn’t always rhyme.
Some pretty good ideas
become lost in time.
I’ve spent parts of life drunk,
parts of life alone,
parts of life doing things
best left unknown.
Raging heat of anger,
driving lust of desire,
blinding light of love,
all fuel my fire.
I could keep pencilling words
to twist & melt your heart
but I don’t know where this poem is going.
I lost control right from the start.

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copyright Skippy / Adrian Smith -- 2000
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