Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2012
So many times,
You fell asleep on my bed,
At noon, or by night,
And I sat beside you,
Rolling a joint,
And everything Was.
A company felt
In the imitations of
Immortality
A distraction,
A perfect waste of time.
Written by
Natt Rozanska
504
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems