You St St Stumbles To The Orange Door.
Your Aching Feet Can't Take Much More.
You Blee Blee Bleed But You Don't Look Back.
You St St Stutters From Your Panic Attack.
"He He Help" You Cried But The Words Don't Come Through.
You Can Only Turn And See Your Self Starring Right Back At You.
YOU ARE READING
Figure 8.
ПоэзияI Figured If I Did This. I Could Figure Out Whats Next. My Fingers Dance The Figure 8. Thats How I'll Start This Mess.
