Wednesday, March 2, 2016

the world goes on

what is my problem
got my blood on my hands
watch that door slam
slip thru the sands
monsters under my bed
cant escape
blades as sharp as samurais
dice that rolls, full fills
all my wishes
washed away like dishes
a painting that meshes
together
we are dragoons
nights whither dead,fake possums

No comments:

Post a Comment