If i were to write drunk poetry,
You would call me foolish,
But my words dont lie,
they flow,
Like a river,
which knows no end
and a few rocks
which hit you,
like they hit me
but they mean no harm,
so let them be
i walk through
a sea of fire
but it doesnt burn me
whats the use
i wont scream
So it passes by,
and i stand still
burning with out burning
in my fiery dreams