Turning
Choirs rage
As angels hate
Turning a burning page
Running farther from fate
Sand grabs the rain
Swollowing my soul
Turning from the pain
I have lost all control
If this unchained guilt
Had elsewhere to be
Instead of turning my flower to wilt
Then things would lead back to me
Saints mock the weak
For they have not the power
Turning me from meek
And reviving the flower
By: Mika Buell
July 12, 2001
1:00 a.m.
Inspired by:
The real....me