perhaps,
we've all been prying
into one's futurity a little too severe
we start to dip our toes
in mocking flames
each time
the evil eye threatens
to overflow blindly hastening
to its fatal calamity
we tend to forget
what we are is still goddamned alive
no matter how sore
our fingers could get
to uncurl
and give them back to terra
the world will always want a drink or two
-a.
YOU ARE READING
littlemisscloud writes
PoetryMy collection of original poetry writings where I'd write way past my bedtime.
