My Midnight Thoughts: Things I Have In Mind, People Don't Know

six hundred hours (25 days)

Worn out in the latency stage
In the 7th streets, after the rage
Post cards in my wallet, rusted
Set fire to my sapphires and rubies
The dread man passed away
Like he didn't seem to care anyway

Half of the sun still ongoing to set
Here you are with your unhinged jet
Striking at mid-air, following smokes underneath
Then jumps up the chandelier, you broke the rich
I'd say good job, since they are far more of a wreck
Now they're screaming at your faces, "you wretched!"
Damn funny, never in my six hundred hours to imagine

At day 25, we met in the city
Life gone hell, with your tee
Spill the guts or spill the tea
Like it's never passed the minutes
Shivers, climbed through my neck
As I cringed throughout the stories
Never was told
But hilarious

In my six hundred hours
You met the tortured flowers
Treasons never conceived
But justified as it seems
Now, we both are in prison
To conduct the worse remorse