Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
You an I manufacture out misery,
You, in a tiny space.
Me in a vast vault.

Things are not the way they ought to be,
Im almost positive there is a gigantic bird following me,
Because every time I turn around I see wings.

I am the medicated messiah.
Written by
James Brian Ker  Nashville, TN
(Nashville, TN)   
752
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems