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Madeysin
Poems
Mar 2015
The bottom
youcouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdadyoucouldvebeenagreatdad
Sing me a sad song, cause I'm not me anymore. I like the smell of gasoline, fresh baked cookies, and music shops. Not in that order.
Did you get to the bottom, that's how my brain works
Written by
Madeysin
Pa
(Pa)
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