Mar 192009
we were demons dreamin, seeing the life in a view, as the morning stew, a fresh cup. a stronge brew. bound for maroon heart, clouds didnt part they came together, the waters didnt part they just dried up, the old story is something that was just fried up in three hundred and fifty degrees, amber cedar trees and artificial grass someone offers you some , you pass but now left hungry starving for what you couldve had the giver is just glad. he jots in his notepad, he dots on his last thought…………….
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.