For us,
I’ve come this far.
Without a bike, nor a car.
No train, plane or boat.
Without these tools,
I’ve nothing to cross this moat
guarding your heart and your every single thought.
While he trots and he trots
just right on by.
I lie here and rot,
Thinking these sinking thoughts.
I determine,
To you, I’m nothing but simply a vermin.
A scoundrel full of crimson, velvet layers.
Just a game with many players.
Then lightning strikes
and I awake.
Stabbed with a pike,
Drowned in the lake.
I’m falling, praying to be saved
Yet I look down at myself,
I seem unscathed.
I’m in bed
waiting for my beliefs to be tread.
I only sit here and wallow.
Knowing that there’s no tomorrow
For us.
F.R.
