Come Back Home

by

Mark Ian Martin

Sliding through the subway
warm breeze on my face
noisy horns,from distant cars
trash cans,all around the place

Under ground,the trains glide by
empty and distraught
my love i can't find anywhere
to her i'm just a thought

Run away girl from me now
run away from pain
all them drugs you want to kiss
is killing you like fire
terrorise your brain

May be your one of them
may be your not
may be you want to come back home
to the family here you've got.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Inside
by: Lora Smith
from: Cle Elum, WA, US

To visit all of Mark Ian Martin's poems, click HERE

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