Lookie Loos
Hands in my sweater's hole,
Life chokes me
on mother's words.
If I close my eyes, maybe they won't notice.
I looked great in photos,
Me, Tasha, and Shawn.
I dive into broken glass,
Oh, this stings,
and how do ya like me now?
Giving lookie loos something else to chat.
Wild birds need air.
Papers rolled, no stems, seeds,
Just a pencil line
separates tragedy from clarity.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
Lookie Loos
Hands in my sweater's hole,
Life chokes me
on mother's words.
If I close my eyes, maybe they won't notice.
I looked great in photos,
Me, Tasha, and Shawn.
I dive into broken glass,
Oh, this stings,
and how do ya like me now?
Giving lookie loos something else to chat.
Wild birds need air.
Papers rolled, no stems, seeds,
Just a pencil line
separates tragedy from clarity.
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