[Alex]

Your life ends before the engineer.
Who was your pilot in this fight?
Though he screamed, you could not hear,
As I locked you in my sight.

Hide your bitten in the attic;
let it fly, little birdie.

Here, man your own boat and sail;
cry to the heavens of what writes out your tale.

Do you walk in the sorrows of it?
Because what you cry for knocks you to fall the pit.

She has nothing to prove, fall fast little, one;
your statement,
it cries out,
through sickness and turmoil.

The question,
from my owl,
will grow, from the soil.
Of everything I lack; through it will come the sack
Of grain as it spills upon the ground full of kills.

In the rip of the covers,
tonight, you'll save a life, from the punch of the bullet;
with arms crying to it.

The sound of the gunshot is what you will fall from,
the pit that holds your own will try to erase it.

Please cry for what you think is right;
Run, little rabbit, you better watch out for number one.
Well, I'm not stopping, so I'll question what I've become.

Oh, Erica, let your birdie go fly,
Oh, let your birdie go die.
Leave a long trail of nothing, which is what we want.

Here, lie upon the clouds of heaven.
Hell has no room for the sun,
So flee and bite your tongue.

[Alex]

No posts yet?

[Rain]

The posts will come racking in soon no need to worry about that. It seemed to me that it lost it's flow many times during the poem. So you need to work on that, but at times it flowed really nicely, and if you get that to be a consitancy, you'll be great. Good work, and keep working on it, I know you can improve this, man.