Something tells me
you never questioned
whether or not
you have a soul
resting beneath
that blanket of
thick, moist flesh
You see, ma
never sang me
a lullaby to sleep,
and now I rest with
weary bones
and crooked teeth
as though they were
toy soldiers
marching down
the streets of a ghost town
an army of woes
and sorrows stacked
so high, you'd think
the aches were
some sort of skyrise
And on, and on
the trembles speak
shaking what was never known
but could be known
if one only
went through the proper channels.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
Something tells me
you never questioned
whether or not
you have a soul
resting beneath
that blanket of
thick, moist flesh
You see, ma
never sang me
a lullaby to sleep,
and now I rest with
weary bones
and crooked teeth
as though they were
toy soldiers
marching down
the streets of a ghost town
an army of woes
and sorrows stacked
so high, you'd think
the aches were
some sort of skyrise
And on, and on
the trembles speak
shaking what was never known
but could be known
if one only
went through the proper channels.
