respect
what i want
when we sit at the fire
roasting my
callused fingers
swings you
pushed me on
but you push me off nowadays
and pull out a gun
and shoot my heart
straight out of
my chest
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrypoetry with no rhyme or rain most of these r rlly old and embarrassing but im keeping them for the lore
06.28.23
respect
what i want
when we sit at the fire
roasting my
callused fingers
swings you
pushed me on
but you push me off nowadays
and pull out a gun
and shoot my heart
straight out of
my chest
