i'm ten minutes late and five minutes under
i always hide when i hear thunder
yelling counts as storming, i tell myself
as i disappear into dust on a shelf
wicked teeth in a tell-tale grin
pull up a chair, let me tell you i'll win
we're not together in this big, dark fight
we only crash when the day meets the night
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Death
Poesíai won't explain many of these. they are for you to work out and they'll probably mean something different to everyone. (i own these poems) ((FINISHED.))
