I was hiding under a shed
For it was a place where you can cry.
Safe and sound, countless crowd
A shed where you can shout.
I want to bury all day
But someone wants me gay.
T'was the hinder for me to stop
Yet the trigger for them to clap.
YOU ARE READING
Wandering Thoughts
PoesíaThis is a work of poetry. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or depends upon the emotion. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coin...
