Timberland is flowing thick
Around the place where time grows sick
No one may pass this rigid zone
And in his house he sits alone
He sits alone and breathes tired air
Believing there is no one there
Not hearing how I call his name
Outside that house in pouring rain
He sees nothing, nothing to see
Inside his chest bleeds misery
He’d lean his head against the wall
And let vibrations tell him all
He needs to know about the world
Hurt, destruction, and a silly girl
Outside his house in pouring rain
Stubbornly calling his name
He fears nothing, nothing to fear
Death will come if far or near
He knows this truth, so calm he stays
Solid stone his face portrays
I want to so reach out to him
Just once to touch that cold, sad skin
But here I’ll stand in pouring rain
Outside that house calling his name
Author notes
I wrote this poem about that distant love that we all might come to face at least once in our lives when it feels like your on the outside looking in. Critique is welcomed but please don't be harsh 
thanks.
Written August 3rd, 2005
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This is a beautiful poem. (Although very sad) I enjoyed the form and flow of this piece. Your meter is great and the entire imagery of this poem is very vivid. Very good poem
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♥FifthD♥ve♥
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This poem reminds me alot of right now. This is angry, pseudo-dark, how I feel right now
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