PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This little three-headed number

keeps comin round

keeps comin round

keeps comin round to my door again

won’t go

uninvited like a storm throwing knives at the

kids in the yard

kids in the yard

kids in the yard underneath summer trees

still free

waiting for the day to come that

keeps settin back

keeps settin back

keeps settin back all the clocks by the hour

time shifts

til we all just forget that the

words on the page

words on the page

words on the page really had things to say

all true

but nobody ever wants to hear that we

keep doin wrong

keep doin wrong

keep doin wrong all the things that we thought

we knew

we were doin cuz they don’t harm a soul and

don’t mean a thing

don’t mean a thing

don’t mean a thing like the dust that falls

real slow

as the buildings all tumble to the ground and it

keeps comin down

keeps comin down

keeps comin down in sheets till it lies

all still

in a blanket over top all the dead who

sleep til the day

sleep til the day

sleep til the day that the three-headed number

will count

like a whisper concealed in a shout as he

keeps comin round

keeps comin round

keeps comin round with a secret he won’t tell

silent

but I’m closer to the answer every time