The Non-Poetic
Monday, March 28, 2011
Ideal life.
I shall sleep on your grave tonight.
My mind is nigh, my spirits sigh.
I shall weep on the turf you call home.
Also my home, all alone.
I shall dig up your love all bare.
Scratching the dirt, scratching the hurt.
I shall die in your sleep tonight.
Never forgotten, a cheery tone.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment