Piercing The Sky, A Book of My Poems
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 4
Number Four

I haven't the slightest idea if this is even poetry. I feel like I'm doing a half-assed job at this, ever since my first poem. Again, reader (and possibly writer), I will ask you a question. Why do I feel as if I'm failing at capturing the moment? Why do I feel as if my poetry could be made by a boy of five? And, for the life of me, why can I still not understand what the word poetry means? Well, let's put my mind to rest, and post this poem. Without further adieu, Number Four:


Show me your fears
Show me your hate
Because I need to feed
I need to feel again
Now I'm down and pleading
Give me your fears
Give me your hate
Let me take your heart
Like you took mine.


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