Bus Stop
Faith has molded my mind to believe everything will be just fine
Therefore I didn’t noticed the chaos
In full force at my front door
Strangers brought temptation sent from the wicked
I was so grateful to have previously eaten dinner
Sour taste buds from the aroma of
Indica and jazz milds
Listening to jazz the whole time while I cry
Time passes by for mr.nobody
Hour glass in classes for mr.nobody
He don’t know his worth
But was projected to be something
Worthless words from countless people
He don’t know what to believe in
Copyright © Keorie Mcmillan | Year Posted 2020
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