Twelve only and ONLY twelve
make it on
the rest fall and while we perform
they begin doubting themselves
and things they do.
I will hold your hand as we wait to see who we'll be
You will hold mine
the boy I like will be across the way
waiting on the same thing
If we win but they don't
I am not sure how things will work between him and me.
If we lose but they win
I don't know how things will work between him and me.
Out on between us and our lovely eyes
see all the way into our brains
machines, machines
creatures of habit are you prepared
to differentiate?
Twelve and ONLY twelve
will make it on alone
and while they war against each other
they do not notice the hole
they do not notice the hole.
YOU ARE READING
Cacoethes Scribendi
PoetryA collection of poems, new and old. My first collection of poetry.
