Liberty
time time time is where I find a rhyme upon my spine
people are unkind in my mind and the truth is defined and unwinds the motion of tick tock there goes the clock as I sit on the old torn fishing dock with wet socks and I fall into a dream of day and unravel the line by the time of the time is quite a story of glory and foaming at the mouth in the south....
I grow tired in the settlements of weathered rain upon my brain as I lay here in sane and unload the skeptical side of my right eye that spies the untied ride of minute fruit and a toot of a winter boot...
Moments later I wake and feel baked under the sun rays of emotion and my lotion of potion at the wake of the dead.. smothered upon the land I lend out a hand of spam and ham of so green and mean in this micro machine.
I feel the cream in my dream and the motion of gravity spiraling in a state of emotional desire to start a fire and minor times are young and proud in a dark thunderous cloud.
I dream again in the day and the night tares scare me in all night and day as I play and seem gay... I dream again of you and need you to know the French ae getting snow...
That's all I know with a finger and a right toe. On the go, believe me you'll never know...
Copyright © Brenda Hamodey | Year Posted 2017
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