Keep knocking on my door,
pounding till I'm sore
shout at me so loudly-
I can't hear you anymore
Now you're holding neon versions
of the signs I didn't see
And though it's clear you try your best,
You won't make a victim out of me.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
Keep knocking on my door,
pounding till I'm sore
shout at me so loudly-
I can't hear you anymore
Now you're holding neon versions
of the signs I didn't see
And though it's clear you try your best,
You won't make a victim out of me.
This poem is still in the drafting stage, but I accidentally saved it as a public piece. Taking advice and edits(:
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