Mar 28
9 minutes on the clock.
Tick tock tick tock.
9 minutes to go.
They've stayed up for the show.
For the writer to bend and to break.
To drown in their deepest lake.
7 minutes on the clock.
Tick tock tick tock.
7 minutes to go.
What a ghastly blow.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For The Lost People
Поэзия365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
