Little King of Sorrows
My hand in ascension.
"Can I have your ATTENTION! "
Poets like these.
The first point of mention.
Another detention, yet slight in dimension.
Lack of expression, not a poetry session.
This is not my profession. Just my hidden obsession.
My skill didn't lessen. I feed on progression.
No moral or lesson.
Simplicity born of the womb of my guessin.
Simply just messin!
A deranged confession.
Of my own retention.
From childhood collection.
The rhythmic injection,
done to perfection.
In my recollection.
Just a suggestion.
While I ask you this question.
WHO R U?
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Comments about this poem (Wonderland by Little King of Sorrows )
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