The flood lights will wrap around my throat,
as the cold stings against my skin;
the angels they cry from a distance-
as they watch the devil win;
It's only just dreams,
dreams of the moon falling-
nothing more.
Welcome to the place we give,
but there is not a reason more to live;
the universe will cry,
as she watches another star burn out in the sky.
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My Sweet Grave Digger
الشعرI use to have an anger so big, it could fill up any house. Poems from the garage attic.
