My mister,
Through bliss and hurt don't we miss her?
Her hair- silky mist
Her eyes- dreary mission wishes
her tears, it seemed, had fallen before the march,
before this hardship.
You carried that torch forever
No one cared but her.
And now such is blurred earth
Until you've become snuffed, wouldn't you be glad to be set fire to?
Starry eyes agaze to a blaze of new desire too
Much higher
High enough.
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 8:12 AM UTC
My mister,
Through bliss and hurt don't we miss her?
Her hair- silky mist
Her eyes- dreary mission wishes
her tears, it seemed, had fallen before the march,
before this hardship.
You carried that torch forever
No one cared but her.
And now such is blurred earth
Until you've become snuffed, wouldn't you be glad to be set fire to?
Starry eyes agaze to a blaze of new desire too
Much higher
High enough.