Heart thumping, it dances away,
Grace-filled, tiny feet,
Maintaining a steady beat,
Striped back arches,
Runs too fast.
A delicate life,
An innocent soul,
Lays on the ground.
Soft last breath,
Blood on tender leaves.
It gives up,
And greets death.
My dad shot a fucking chipmunk in its head.
YOU ARE READING
Thinking About Random Stuff
AléatoireI just want to write. It's a mess. I like writing. Poetry I guess, who really knows what monster I've created. Deep thoughts and sometimes me trolling myself. Fun.
