I make no sense
As the words flow
From my finger tips
From mine
Mad sense
Crazy talk
Smile
As she talks about butterflies
She types and types and types
Thinking she will revive her sanity
She has no sanity
She has no fealty
To no. To no. To no.
One.
Irony as she looks beyond
No one tells her she’s made a bond
He, the Lord smiles down
Silly silly silly, little girl
Don’t you see
He’s looking down
Don’t you see
He’s looking down
Once you’re in the ground
You’ll see the truth so bright, you’ll see the world alight
YOU ARE READING
Mammoth Book of Poetry
PoesíaMy collection of randomly written poems. Some maybe insightful, others maybe plain random, some may not even make sense. But nevertheless enjoy!
