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samuel-the-poetPoems
My back is tight, knotted I'm not entirely sure why But I would trap a dozen Eskimos for a massage, honestly Enter the sad realization that, despite Bruno's good intentions, he is unable to Fulfill this request with paws Oh, but that's alright It's one of those half-hearted dreams That drifts along in wispy bits Every now and again To whisper and invoke a peace Within the cataclysm, but don't dare Turn around, or it will be Gone Like the ghostly fingers untying me One loop at a time because They've lost the scissors
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May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
Back Massage
My back is tight, knotted I'm not entirely sure why But I would trap a dozen Eskimos for a massage, honestly Enter the sad realization that, despite Bruno's good intentions, he is unable to Fulfill this request with paws Oh, but that's alright It's one of those half-hearted dreams That drifts along in wispy bits Every now and again To whisper and invoke a peace Within the cataclysm, but don't dare Turn around, or it will be Gone Like the ghostly fingers untying me One loop at a time because They've lost the scissors
samuel-the-poet
Written by
samuel-the-poet
27/M/American
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 5:42 PM UTC
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