Little boy,
Who I have no reason or want,
To trust.
You better keep your hands off her.
We may not be related,
But it feels like we're bound by blood,
Don't mess with my blood.
Young man,
Who I have yet to choke.
You better not hurt her.
I've got a gun,
Because something told me to use one,
Because the mind that runs me is a mysterious one.
I'll stand here swearing through my teeth,
That the truth's coming for you,
That the bruises don't lie.
YOU ARE READING
Just A Mess
PoetryI'm not too sure as to what this is, but I often get bored and lost in my thoughts, so why not write them out? As I wrote I created poetic sentences, lines and phrases. So, I hope they can be enjoyed despite their mainly heavy topics. This book cove...
