Is Just Another Word With A Hole In It
Funeral blues
Even dirt weeps
Blooming exit
Brought to a freeze
I have never bothered to look
Inside myself
To find myself
On scribbled notes
Every flower
Thinks of me
My pollination
Resembles debris
I have never bothered to look
Inside myself
To find myself
On scribbled notes
I have never bothered to look
Inside myself
To find myself
On scribbled, cryptic notes
A thousand faces
Not one could replace
A single soul
Consumed by waste
A thousand mirrors
Reflect disgrace
A house of cards
Engulfed in flames
A thousand faces
Not one could replace
A single soul
Consumed by waste
An off white lie
That’s come undone
Composing suffering
That fall on ears
Of no-one
Of no-one
Of no-one