I won't play the victim,
my head is made of stone,
my feet are made of gravel,
this dirt is all they've known.
"Here lies a poet, lost in his own head,
not knowing hell from heaven,
nor life from being dead."
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
I won't play the victim,
my head is made of stone,
my feet are made of gravel,
this dirt is all they've known.
"Here lies a poet, lost in his own head,
not knowing hell from heaven,
nor life from being dead."
Request permission to use this poem