Mortified
I stare at the half dead birds
With wings of smoking coals
Fly into igloos made of plastic
And leave a trail of blood
On the blue paper sky
Mortified
I close my eyes
And drift into dreamland
To escape this astronomically nonsensical nightmare
Of a half dead reality.
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
Mortified
I stare at the half dead birds
With wings of smoking coals
Fly into igloos made of plastic
And leave a trail of blood
On the blue paper sky
Mortified
I close my eyes
And drift into dreamland
To escape this astronomically nonsensical nightmare
Of a half dead reality.