barefoot, headed to the mountains.
bear's footprints on the mud—
stains on my shirt as the path guiding me.
alone, headed to the land mines.
flushing these memories out the flesh,
while scratching a map to find my very best.
emerald city, big city and so our minds.
wiping every inch of you from the land of mine.
our flashbacks could be seen if i tried,
but changes could be seen when i don't hide.
barefoot, headed to the fountain,
where i could wash it all away and tame—
these lessons that killed me, also here to live inside me.
i'm now clean, and so is my mind.
and i glow as the moon at night.
i supposed to walk up the mountains,
to do some things, but now i'm here.
YOU ARE READING
Desperate Nightmares, Old Habits Die: Prose and Poetry
Poetryi live in a poetic life but dying from your poisonous lies. we live in vain, so we drink until we get drunk in our own mistakes and sins. but still making out with the devils, but in the back of my mind, i'm with you - haunting me stunningly.
