Pills Pushed To the Front
Smoky and scarred
pills pushed to front
a poker or blunt
raised through the ruins
will be leaving here soon
open the chest
where living's a soul
burnt out by black coal
sifting the diamonds
sure is no chore
sparkling rich waters
just pick the right drawer
curled up in the corner
vague flickers ignite
words are repeated
teaching soft light
fill up the foundry
where emptiness lies
a need to a burning
seen in innocent eyes
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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