Bubble, bubble, pop!
Let's the thoughts wash over
God let this stop
Black cruising rover
Can't lead me away
I can't ever escape
These thoughts always find a way
In these fantasies that drape
Salts rub out the burn
But I can't bury my dreams
These thoughts are what I earn
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Attempts
PoetryA small collection of the excuses I call poetry. I'm not a poet but if you need a light read, here you go
