No one listens anymore.
Its early as hell,
Its 4:24.
I hear the bells.
I lay on the floor.
Someone just listen.
Im so so sore.
Laying alone at 4:24.
When will it glisten?
This number is 4.
The time it tells,
At exactly 4:24.
It pops up,
In my head.
Whats up?
I should go to bed.
There are voices screaming loud.
In my head.
Its so damn awesome.
Im stuck in dread.
Somone listen to the words said.
Its early.
Its morning.
I lay on the floor.
Why did i catch 4:24??
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'...
