Some people spit on their fingertips when they turn pages, the world is a mess. You could tell that she was still a little girl at heart, pink hearts and red flowers lined her white dress.
She said she is not going back again, drinking liquor and small talking strangers on the midnight train. She was in search of a border, she met drug dealers, corrupt cops and prison warders.
The card deck had no royalty in it only jokers and aces. She was now smoking star dust in a distant land with unfamiliar faces. She usually sits on the side of the road and watches as a crowd surfs on by with back packs, purses and brief cases.
She is a supernova amongst shooting stars, and comets.
Aims syringes into her veins and plays Russian roulette, the price is morbid and sordid her fate is sealed solid.
She jumps at the opportunity to regale any man that would pay her any attention, if it means more drugs and more liquor in her system, she's trapped in a system... the cycle is relentless. You could tell that she was still a little girl at heart, pink hearts and red flowers lined her white dress. - Menzi Buthelezi
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Remember Me
PoetryShe left him. He knew she would. fate was just prying it's trade.
