Ripples in the Water
I alone become finished,
if my water fountain isn't replenished.
Scattered images in my mind scare me,
as shadows over the sun make me blind.
Mixed are we, which one is he?
What gravity does his weight take to get him through?
Mixed up, he betrays what joys I wish for.
Fish out of water is he, searching for water so fresh,
as he tries to escape this woven mesh.
He feels out his form, mixed up.
I received him in my hand, dying.
As he gasped for air, I breathed into him;
his lungs filled with fluid so what could I do?
I was hoping he wasn't lying, as I held on,
waiting for hope to come along, and he had done
wrong by the break of day. I held on but he went on,
to new visions in the ripples of water
2007-03-05
17:58:03
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5 answers
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asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities