Pour me another glass,
Give to me my last sip,
This drink won't last,
There's no end to this trail...
But of course, my woman,
Who's dead to her glass,
Will never rise again,
Will never see again.
All because of me,
My bloodlust,
My gun.
A contest entry
- Picture this by Whisper Mckee.
600 points, ended April 2, 2008, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
...
Comments
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wow great!
=]
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hummm...good
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very good like they way you said it
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