| |
Above my bed, on my wall, there hangs a man who sees it all.
His tiny eyes never close and everything I do, He knows.
He watches me as I sleep and in the darkness when I creep
Out my door late at night and slip into the bathroom’s light.
He has a name I often whisper and a voice I rarely hear,
A face that brings me sorrow, a face I hold so dear
And every day above my bed I see Him dying for things I’ve said,
For things I’ve done, for things I’ll do, He loved me even though He knew
I’d treat Him only as if He were something on my wall to see.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|