Things,
What are these things.
These things that make me wanna sneeze.
The things that often wanna sting.
These things bring us a summer breeze.
I want to show.
I want to grow.
I want,
I want,
You to know.
I am here,
You are there.
So your when your near,
You sit in a chair.
Laughter in my face.
Sometimes I need space.
It's a fucking joke I see.
Why,
Oh why;
Do I have to breath.
This will bring me the summer breeze.
YOU ARE READING
|°Simply Structure°|
PoetryPoetry has always completely held me together. It's kind like how you breathe oxygen. It's something I have to do. Poetry is something like oxygen to me. Without it I wouldn't survive. ~ remember love is a crime and I'll do the time for loving what'...
