Author Information
Fresh Hell
The more I think about it
The more the memory fades
As time continues on
and I count the days
I can barely hear that song, her voice,
throughout the dream-like haze
As If my sea of memories
dried, only leaving a stain.
This Fresh hell renewed
With every day you are away...
Let me have my sight again
To see my renewed day
i always liked this poem.. but, i still have nothing to say.