Little boy go home
The world isn't safe for you anymore
Stories here a myriad of broken dreams
Skies a grave of dying stars
Not one alive they're all just existing
Their blood has turned to green
The poison they pour into each other
So generously
You stand and wonder
curiously
What could they mean?
But trust me dear they mean not well
Run, run till you find a better hell
Sorry love I forgot to tell
Heaven's a tale
We threw away the scale
Our fangs are out for printed paper
Our morals we gave away
It's been many years
Brick and mortar, sinking mud
Will pull you in
Till you've lost your blood
And fill your veins with green
Then you will see what they see
and the wold will be
black.
YOU ARE READING
UNSUNG BALLADS
PoetryThe ocean does not apologise for it's depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness for the space they take and so neither shall I. This is some of my original poetry , that was getting too tired sitting on the last pages of my notebooks.
