The spots are deep, the scars are hyper,
A wrath is on its way.
Puzzled - is that a cypher?
'Cause there's no chance to crack it,
And a lot of attention to pay.
I'm scratching my wounds,
Over and over again,
Hitting circles, escaping the sounds,
But, they follow me, from plain to plain.
Say what?
You coming over the bad days?
Or you falling in the pit?
Seems true,
Trying hard to come up,
But, this is not yet sober.
Giving up?
That's not in my blood,
I'll better work.
Smart that is,
But what would climb you up?
Questions? I don't find answers in hurry.
For now, avoid the commotion,
Follow the instinct, and grab the wall -
Rest will follow.
YOU ARE READING
Chaotic Rhymes.
PoetrySometimes, you might write some junk, in the middle of the night. All you've got to do is, grab a pencil and a paper, and scribble. Who knows, one day, you might compile the bits, and name them as 'your work'. It's the result of the same actions. Wr...
