Feeling like you're high on cloud 9
Feeling your veins getting warmer
Your ears pounding to the beats
This is what you came for
Inhale the smoke
Exhale freedom
When your eyes mets hers
All they could do is reflect the smoke
Then everyone realised
When the smoke is in your eyes
You look so alive.
YOU ARE READING
voltairement
PoetryGod is dead, - said Nietzsche. In a land of desolation and ghosts You were an angel. Like every other creature, you've been wasted. Wicked little thing.
