Some days are like homes
Spewing bombs at the whole world,
Unable to blow.
My little finger
Is ashamed to write out pain
Or paint grief in blood.
I sometimes want to
Strap myself in ecstasy
Without any brakes.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Some days are like homes
Spewing bombs at the whole world,
Unable to blow.
My little finger
Is ashamed to write out pain
Or paint grief in blood.
I sometimes want to
Strap myself in ecstasy
Without any brakes.