my connection to words,
the string of abstract thoughts,
has been severed by the scissors of the three sisters.
one word obnoxiously grabs hold,
every day, jamming traffic in my head.
your name is the apocalypse.
I lowered my army of defense,
cleared a path to let you in,
believed your promises to me.
you lied.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
my connection to words,
the string of abstract thoughts,
has been severed by the scissors of the three sisters.
one word obnoxiously grabs hold,
every day, jamming traffic in my head.
your name is the apocalypse.
I lowered my army of defense,
cleared a path to let you in,
believed your promises to me.
you lied.
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