Array ( [sid] => 184841 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Writers Toolbox [time] => 2018-02-03 18:33:40 [hometext] => Defining ourselves is a lifelong endeavor. [bodytext] => These are my crayons;
I choose the shades.
No one but I
Shall color my page!

This is my music;
My souls holy grail;
Carboned by strangers;
Who know where I’ve failed.

These are my scissors;
To shape what I am;
What falls to the floor;
Forever be damned.

This is my pen;
Who tells all my tales;
Whos truth is the scabbard;
On which I’m impaled.

[comments] => 7 [counter] => 164 [topic] => 69 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => poets ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Writers Toolbox


The Writers Toolbox
Date: Saturday, 3rd February 2018 @ 06:33:40 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: softerware
These are my crayons;
I choose the shades.
No one but I
Shall color my page!

This is my music;
My souls holy grail;
Carboned by strangers;
Who know where I’ve failed.

These are my scissors;
To shape what I am;
What falls to the floor;
Forever be damned.

This is my pen;
Who tells all my tales;
Whos truth is the scabbard;
On which I’m impaled.



This poem is Copyright © softerware


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