We're going to collect a vial of your tears and put them on a shelf
then we're going to raise a flag and bring down hell
those corners that stubbed our toes
will feel the wrath of our woes
those splintered fingers
will no longer linger
this is our prize
so wipe your eyes
we have nothing to dread
the horizon is straight ahead
and those little bumps and bruises
are going to be the memories that amnesia loses
those tears you cry are going to dry so let's put them in a bottle for tonight
You're going to be alright
YOU ARE READING
Simply Poetry
PoetryA collection of poems by Sean Arturo Last. You are encouraged to leave your interpretations in the comments. -- © All Rights Reserved (No unauthorized copy, distribution, transmission, or alteration of the work.)
