Everything That Shines Might Not Be Gold,
Yet Fools Gold Instead.
A Mouth Full Of Gum Now Only Flickers Red.
The Taste Of Iron Dances,
The Smell Of Freedom And Fun.
It's Nice To Have Friends To Fight With
In The Golden Sun.
To Bad I'm Alone.
It's Night.
And I Have No One.
YOU ARE READING
Figure 8.
PoetryI Figured If I Did This. I Could Figure Out Whats Next. My Fingers Dance The Figure 8. Thats How I'll Start This Mess.
