Big
Cryptic slow points, and fake kisses in poetic phrases
kind of like gun points in your faces, in centimental form,
making you feel torn, between guilt trips, bar dips, pipe sips
180 degree mind flips. Don't know where you're from sun of a gun,
draining all the fun. Questioning who your real friends are
as they pouring out their little hearts with dizzying mind spells,
compelling tall tells, you dirt bag "peace" of ...
mind split, don't know where you're going
don't even know exactly what it is you're knowing.
draining the stars that chase the sun
and you're watching them die out
one by one.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
