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Charisma

Charisma don't matter
It don't matter a damn
Whilst my blood
Pour through your hands

You gonna tell me I'm ugly
Or, you gonna tell me I'm pretty
When I'm a-holding your heart
In the palm of my hand

Yeah, that 's what I thought
You're soft, You might be a poet
But you ain't no preacher
And you got no charisma

Pick up your arms
Step in line
Shoulder up
Get some blood on your hands

We got a world to build


Comments

  1. The Dark LordFebruary 2, 2013 at 11:34 PM

    Some very intriguing ideas there.... but I wonder.. why can't a world be built without getting blood on your hands?

    ReplyDelete
  2. LLM CallingFebruary 3, 2013 at 3:15 AM

    what a lot to absorb, really intriguing

    ReplyDelete
  3. joanneFebruary 3, 2013 at 12:44 PM

    powerful poetry...I like alot

    ReplyDelete

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