Kids with guns and cold, hard minds,
Bullets and crayons, fragile, small spines.
Decorating their skulls with untrue skin,
Covering up all from within;
Yet they don't see, through their paper plane eyes,
What you create will live forever, destruction always dies.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
