In a foreign place
Somewhere I thought I knew
I found more of myself
Than I wanted to
But half past that golden hour
I stood outside of my mind
Walked a block or two
Down that road of blue
To be carried off and away
In a destructive spiral down
Sweet cotton candy skies
Taste like my demise
Ain't it funny how I used to be?
Dreaming about my own memories
And as I take that slow, long trip
I miss the future and forget
YOU ARE READING
Silverfish
PoetryA compilation of written thoughts, poems, and short stories composed by myself
