Red rope lies on the floor
Contemplating, pondering, should I?
Maybe if life were just a bit more
And water didn't run knee-high
So this is what it felt like
For the others as they linger
Oh, but can'st thou call a sike
As the water reaches fingers
The door, glued shut with crimson liquids
Quivers like the thoughts and the doubts
Desperately, impatiently attempt to rid
The water rising to the snout
Red rope hangs on the ceiling.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
Red rope lies on the floor
Contemplating, pondering, should I?
Maybe if life were just a bit more
And water didn't run knee-high
So this is what it felt like
For the others as they linger
Oh, but can'st thou call a sike
As the water reaches fingers
The door, glued shut with crimson liquids
Quivers like the thoughts and the doubts
Desperately, impatiently attempt to rid
The water rising to the snout
Red rope hangs on the ceiling.
