Oh, how much I would like to run away. Escape from all the trouble and misery. 'Everything can be fixed' my grandfather said while suffering from a broken heart. The irony from his tounge hit me like gunshots. I go to bed every night, hoping my mind doesn't eat me in my sleep. Open window and lonely driveway. Where did she go? Pale, white curtains blowing in the wind. Naked feet in the cold grass and driving through thunder storms. Speeding past traffic lights and picking wild flowers from the roadside. Let's hope she doesn't get too lost.
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Poetry collection
PoesiaWelcome to the collection of my poetry and other writings that stumbles across my mind at 3 am.
