Tell me again, where I am from
For I find the swamps homely
But scary to admit.
And hear the footsteps time louder
But a stranger, in the corridor of hope
As the footsteps always go in reverse.
Morose filled
Days progress's enmity
Digress grins
At the helm of a pleated beautiful nightmare.
So! I dare you to tell me again
& see the wrath of the sun
Slumping life
In front.
No comments:
Post a Comment