Sweater,
My sweater.
The weather,
It's better.
How clueless,
My stripes.
These bruises,
Are ripe.
Stripes,
I type,
And ice
These hypes,
Of Christ.
Um,
A bum,
A cookie crumb.
I can't seem to find the sum.
Light,
It's bright.
The sight,
Your right.
My bad,
Your sad.
Don't be mad.
Be glad.
Stripes are sad,I'd know dad.
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'...
