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andrea-schmidtPoems
Still, I sip nicotine clouds; this calls for calming calculation. I wave my scythe, slashing though shrouds. Still I sip nicotine clouds. Hardly buzzed, I flick at fish flies. She gladly drifts through prostration. Still…I sip nicotine clouds that call for calming calculation. Waiting depths to rock me closer, barely breathing surface air. I’m death’s beautiful composer, waiting depths to rock me closer. Mom said, “No one would choose her.” I’m infected, why should I care? Wait for depths to rock me closer, barely breathing surface air.
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Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
Death Alone Chose Lillian
Still, I sip nicotine clouds; this calls for calming calculation. I wave my scythe, slashing though shrouds. Still I sip nicotine clouds. Hardly buzzed, I flick at fish flies. She gladly drifts through prostration. Still…I sip nicotine clouds that call for calming calculation. Waiting depths to rock me closer, barely breathing surface air. I’m death’s beautiful composer, waiting depths to rock me closer. Mom said, “No one would choose her.” I’m infected, why should I care? Wait for depths to rock me closer, barely breathing surface air.
We all wish to be chosen despite our faults, short comings and mistakes.
#death#breathe#chosen
andrea-schmidt
Written by
andrea-schmidt
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
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