Its still too soon for us to grow old.
When caterpillars start flying,
They don’t even notice the greener grass but the tallest branch that grows.
Its never too soon;
But can be too late.
Its never too late,
Death to flesh is always too soon.
Breath has everything too lose,
To death that has nothing to lose.
Its too soon, Lingers.
When hormones Flicker.
Where more home builders,
Strike when homes are wrecked by branded beamers.
Hearbroken,
Tossed coined into hard soil.
Head flipped to the tail,
Hapiness locked prisoned in jail.
Its too soon for the poem to end in the middle of nowhere.
Its too soon but I apologise I have to go somewhere.
Its too soon…
$igned : Lucky
very very nice poem