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Feed Her

The wild child arose from the grave
Hoping his soul he could find and save
Wishing to free the last shackled slave
And escape from his man made cave
The wild child meant no harm
Insanity was the leader
Ran out of goals and forgot how to dream
Killed himself to prove his love to her
The wild child lives everywhere
In my heart and in your soul
In his eyes and on her lips
In the Beam and inside a role
In the churches and deep in hell
On a hill or in a well
Inside the ocean and above a cloud
Freedom can't be found in a cell
The wild child is deep in me
Digging the dirt to expose sanity
Thoroughly throwing away the crazy
Clearing a space for my perfect lady
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2010

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Comments (1)

Aww... forgot how to dream, ran out of goals, meant no harm. Sad, but hopeful I think- "clearing a space for my perfect lady".

I'm not very poetic myself, & likely haven't grasped the full meaning, but it's very interesting... and I like what I've found in your poem.thumbs up
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by Unknown
on Nov 2010
Last Viewed: Sep 20
Last Commented: Nov 2010

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