That box of toys,
That kingdom mine.
Now strewn somewhere,
In filth and glare.
Those good all days,
They went with them.
That rotting shell,
Once my sun.
The streets I built,
The cars I raced.
Those dreams I saw,
Just thrown away.
The good old days.
Now so far away,
In some landfill somewhere,
That toybox, once here.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
PoetrySecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
