Stuck between joy and rage…
What's more of there to say?
Free fall with that sputtering sound
return to the place so thickly bound.
Where weapons of words strictly slice
a frigid sort to roll the dice.
Clashing, clashing always clashing
an argument still throughly thrashing.
It's a consort to delirium
silly little thoughts that hum…
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
Stuck between joy and rage…
What's more of there to say?
Free fall with that sputtering sound
return to the place so thickly bound.
Where weapons of words strictly slice
a frigid sort to roll the dice.
Clashing, clashing always clashing
an argument still throughly thrashing.
It's a consort to delirium
silly little thoughts that hum…
Request permission to use this poem