Help rank my 2250 four line poems by contributing your votes to a Ladder. (see Ladder)


It must be some kind of sight.
The mirror does not see.
Hung above the cradles pen.
I'm blaming me I'm we.
That's my dreams associated with it.
So I can paint the other laughs.
Kindly leave your ten-foot shoes.
Where I can paint their paths.

What do you think?
Poem one is best    Poem two is best