I like this poem |
how many loved ur moments of glad grace,n loved ur beauty with love false or true,but one man loved the pilgrim soul in u,n loved the sorrows of your changing face.
Posted by on Sun, 11 Feb 2007 08:48:00 GMT |
Fadeless |
The rain falls down from the northern skies.
Like poisoned knives.
With no mercy.
Destination darkness.
No fear.
Posted by on Mon, 02 Oct 2006 01:10:00 GMT |
Breathless |
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun.
all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste
Posted by on Wed, 13 Sep 2006 06:19:00 GMT |
