I really don’t care,
if these poem as artwork,
are ever well known.
It’s raining outsdie,
and rain falls like silver streaks,
in the cars head lights.
I’m drinking coffee,
and it’s as black as the night,
and held in a mug.
I am thinking slpw,
and I’m also thinking fast,
it’s so confusing.
I feel the day’s gone,
the sun shone as bright as day,
and then went away.
And the rains did come,
cold and wet like winter chills,
that run you inside.
The evening is here,
and dull like distant thunder,
calls the morrow on.
Tempations may come,
sin like as a promise lost,
and dragging regret.
Best to stay away,
from the tempters path that’s wide,
and not easly missed.
