Thursday, February 22, 2007

The Last Three Letters of Friend.

A conceded reality,
We live in.
Conceded in spontaneous talk and the likes.

All innovations fail,
To illuminate hidden beauty.
The skin remains to be judged.

Be it that retaliation were longer,
And reflex a little more,
Then all of us be in harm's way,
Yet all in alert friendship.

Be it so that failures are few,
Failures in realizing companions,
And all shall know friends.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Okay my comments are getting monotonous :P

A brilliant poem,
Again.

AFTER WRITING THAT YOU CANT POSSIBLY SAY YOU'RE UNTALENTED AT POETRY! :P