They are everywhere
On the floor
On the walls
So many
Why is there millions?
Where did they come from?
Who knows
I kick one across the floor
I wonder who these people were
How did they die
I pick one up and rub the dirt off
I feel bad I killed them all
With my hands I crushed them
I start to cry
There are so many skulls
YOU ARE READING
My Poems That Kill
PoetryPoems from my heart, brain, imagination. The things people say to me only to use me. I write what my brain says. Most time they are bad or mad, but sometimes they are good and happy.
