Like a Rock

Standard

I press my face and rest my faith against your chest

In keeping pace with human race

Life yields such straights that breed regret

But sitting calm, I’m moving on and I’m at ease when I’m with you

You press a palm, no words at all

-It does its job,  I carry through

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About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

One response »

  1. Love. When its true it can be felt in something simple as a touch. you got the heart down tight, poet.

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