predict my life for me, i dare you
ergo, there will be misery spouting from every orifice
regularly there ain't much who speak but
creak open the door into the lives of others and
yearn for their conversation, albeit they be small and insignificant
jump for joy when the book is over
ail thyself with grief
creep along the pages and
keep your eyes wide open, seeing, forever seeing
suppress your emotion from others, wait, no
obviously the world acts in a different commodity
never does life exist when only one is around
YOU ARE READING
this fantastical world is too surreal (poetry #5)
Poetry"a rustle crackles underneath jackboots crossbow tight in hand she breathes one final breath before he pulls the trigger" you know the drill
