Genre - Poetry. You are on the page - 399
My skin is cold, My lips are pale, My body looks like the color has been stripped of it, Is this what death is like? No and yes, Death has not come upon me, Yet. This is what drugs has done to me.
All is fair in love and war, or not at all. To love someone so much it hurts can be intoxicating. So much so that you become addicted to it and can't shake the need.
Reflective poem of a life well-lived, but fringed with guilt.
A poem about holding on and not letting the dark things in life overtake you, instead focus on the good and have faith that the good things out way the bad
A Smorgasbord of reason without rhyme, rhyme without reason.
An autobiographical, poetic tribute about my tour of duty in Viet Nam, as a 19 year old United States Marine, in 1966.