Little dead presidents that ruin our world.
Little
Tiny faces that give out big puffs of smoke.
Like Big, mighty dragons with fire you burn down everything in your sight.
You grab for more as burning cities collapse all around you.
As the innocent cough out green blood.
With gray puffs of smoke
People, more faces shatter to the floor as your reaching for a ladder.
Little dead presidents are all that matter.
YOU ARE READING
Perceptions -A series of poems- by Ashleigh
PoesieThese are some of the best poems, I, Ashleigh, have written. Feel free to comment on them, give me constructive criticism, tell me what you liked about them. And don't forget to vote! I love all my readers and I hope you love my poems.
