Turn Around
What is a god but a sad little sod with the power to do what he will?
Where is the proof of a glorious truth in the message of blood in the till?
How are we here in this nice little mere but to dance with the passing of time?
Who is reflected in mirror and maze but a god just awaiting the chime?
poem by Poet Dragon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
