Timothy olson Poems

People walk, people talk.
Count the seconds, on the clock.
People share, people stare.
Most just act, like they don't care.
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Three little mice on there way to town, were supposed to be home before the sun went down.
On there way to town, they met up with a clown.
They asked the clown, if he was going to town.
The clown replied, holding his laughter inside.
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SISTER AND BROTHER AND THE BLOOD AND GUTS OF OTHERS.
How its so unfair, but mostly just unkind.
People tend to worry over, what's rightfully mine.
Yes, the worlds just unfair, but mostly its unkind.
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