Mar 2020
It's 3.20 A.M
And I hear birds
Maybe lost.
Crooning for what
God knows.
One hour from now
40 years back
Mr. Marley will be
Rolling his blunt
Rolling in his grave
For what?
Only god knows.
It's 3.24 A.M
And I am writing
A poem.
For What?
God knows.
And I hear birds
Maybe lost.
Crooning for what
God knows.
One hour from now
40 years back
Mr. Marley will be
Rolling his blunt
Rolling in his grave
For what?
Only god knows.
It's 3.24 A.M
And I am writing
A poem.
For What?
God knows.
Posting the most random burst of a poem here after nearly 2 years. I missed this place.
