My Unstable Poetry

Misconception

Babe you are a misconception,

Skipping on that grave.

You raise all hell,

But never let loose

Are you the misconception?

Is your misconception a thing?

Maybe a feeling?

Tired of stomping on those old stepping stones

The angel will drown you

But the flames will rise

Willows will fly

While you may wander

Black eyes, sharp teeth

They bite you like memories

That's the misconception.