There is no guidance,
and no guarantee,
They aren't to love,
so leave them be
As soon as he hurts you,
he'll sleep in vain,
and open his eyes, fine again.
Hush my broken soul
a secret you are worth,
cement cradles the body that he stole
while it whispers to the earth;
Goodnight, careful
Goodnight, careful
I am just like them,
however, i am next
The Tin Man watches in the window,
in his destructive apex.
YOU ARE READING
My Sweet Grave Digger
PoetryI use to have an anger so big, it could fill up any house. Poems from the garage attic.
