Four shots of ***
Then I write
Grandiose, I soliloquise
And my pen tracks across the page
Talking of being forgotten
As they themselves shall be
Then, my mind afire, and exhausted
I collapse, into the oblivion of sleep
This is but practice for death
I wake, and the process begins anew
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
Four shots of ***
Then I write
Grandiose, I soliloquise
And my pen tracks across the page
Talking of being forgotten
As they themselves shall be
Then, my mind afire, and exhausted
I collapse, into the oblivion of sleep
This is but practice for death
I wake, and the process begins anew