Sunday, June 6, 2010

Befuddled Child

I hear the brittle rustling of waves

Ragingly spash the mountainside

Under the palest light of moon

It pours its boiling wrath inside.

Above is something different

The sky was brigt and still

But who knows what lies ahead

If it will care or it would care.

Where I stand now is the land

Temptation lurks on its vastness

'Twas hard to choose from rigth or wrong

Its inconsistency results to madness.

To mix humor ,respect and love

A twinge could cost a lifetime

Yet to hope for joke to stop its scene

Is like handling a hopeless crime.

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