Toby's Poems

Though all may move, all may stop,
Always to start, always to drop;
A never ending cycle of living,
Even of those who wish to giving;
Pure can always be corrupt,
Sane rhythms in mind be interrupt;
Corrupt can always be pure,
Even by a stare in mirror;
Though it will never stop ever,
There is a link from one and all to sever;
Early to late, start to end,
There are some things never to mend.

Red, red all around,
Some to lost, never be found;
The ends of many cut so near,
Any normal some would shed a tear;
Not to fret or scare or stop,
Nor spin around like a runaway top;
Doomed they were doomed for all,
The tick, tock saw their fall;
Everything must end, always to go,
Must keep balance like this so;
One tip of the fragile flow,
The end of everything is soon to show.