Poems Submitted by Our Readers

What is fool and what is fake?
And is not pain but what we make?
What is joy and what is real?
Can we ever touch and feel,
The smooth water and the grass,
That each day we always pass?
I am blind always to thee.
For I could not ever see,
That which rises in the wake,
Is the pain which I did make.


Sammy Gravano