I don't wanna be the one to tell you
But there's nothin
Nothin left
I don't know what you was expecting and all
When you look at the sky and shit
And try to figure out what it all means
But there's nothin big there
No decoding or deciphering
It's the sky
It exists
So do you
One day after the next
In a circle cycle of something
Maybe
What's that mean
I don't know
Nobody's been able to figure it out
Maybe there's nothing to figure out
We just drift around
Until we don't
And in that time
We maybe laugh some
And cry some
And try to sleep in when we can
Maybe that's all there is to it
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 4
Poésiehello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at S...
