~Sonnet of Self~
Though its eminence is ugly, The expression of sadness is upon its face. To be deserted and lonely, One becomes fond of the tranquil place. It never is seen as being talkative, It apparently has no choice. Within its cave it may be meditative, And one can’t help but listen to hear its deep voice. When first you hear its odd music, You can’t help but stay and observe. But there is no sound for it only can think, About its time in reserve. And so within its dark sanctuary, Its morbid thoughts collect like a quarry.
Mr.Huggles · Sun Mar 04, 2007 @ 01:14am · 0 Comments |