When the sun is low
people beg to know
that I am there, that someone cares
When the sun lights the sky
I'm left high and dry
without so much as a whispered goodbye
alone, isolated, abandoned, dead
A fraction of the thoughts swirling through my head
always reaching out, even with eyes full of doubt
now as I lay down to and go to bed
I realize no one cares unless you're pretty or dead
The sun is low, the sun is gone
I need to leave, I need to move on
-Ikoi Hanakari
Writers of all kinds
A place where all kinds of writers can come and show off their skills (no bragging)
