#22 of Poetry, both old and new
It's always the Little things, that either make us feel joy, anger, fear or pain. It's always the Little things That make us want to find them again.
It's always the
Little things
That set you off.
They make you angry,
They leave me hanging;
It's always the
Little things
That make me think;
They twist my
Mind,
Both yours and
Mine
And take us
To the brink.
It's always the
Little things
That stop
And make us
Think.
When I was young, I had a dream, Just a small house, down by a stream, Far away from all that mattered, All the dreams that ended shattered, Just a home where I could roam, And be me.... Call it causality, maybe reality, Call it a...
You don't know me. I don't know you. You pass by me, Every day, On the crowded streets. You say hello; I say goodbye. You serve me food, Ring up my beer, Tax my cigarettes. I give you money, And your life goes on. We see each other...
I dream each night Of prophecy Of things that may come true. I dream each night Of prophecy, Of fate, Or what have you; I dream each night Of things That can't exist or Can't be true, But every time I Dream of fate And always dream Of...