Tears In Volume
Dries the eyes which cries.
Next to my pain.
Raining in one column.
I hate the clear blue skies.
I hate the colors painted on the wings of a butterfly.
Brush my emotions with the witches broom.
Cast my soul into a six sided room.
Stake my heart.
Cut off my head.
If I die.
I will be dead.
Do me one favour.
Please do this soon
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Comments about this poem (Tears In Volume by Unic Cjonr )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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William Butler Yeats
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(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
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