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shay-ruthPoems
It’s a burnt sort of breeze The type that grins with Nervous thoughts Boys call it beauty We try not to believe them It’s a burnt sort of breeze A twisted core asks for change The new don’t know the old The birds will fall It’s a burnt sort of breeze But it will be colorful Remarkably beautiful Faces washed and flesh repaired It’s a burnt sort of breeze And the pain will return And the memory will **** Onto the arms of the weak or young It’s a burnt sort of breeze That circles around She brings hope But truces are irrelevant
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
Oh Nine
It’s a burnt sort of breeze The type that grins with Nervous thoughts Boys call it beauty We try not to believe them It’s a burnt sort of breeze A twisted core asks for change The new don’t know the old The birds will fall It’s a burnt sort of breeze But it will be colorful Remarkably beautiful Faces washed and flesh repaired It’s a burnt sort of breeze And the pain will return And the memory will **** Onto the arms of the weak or young It’s a burnt sort of breeze That circles around She brings hope But truces are irrelevant
shay-ruth
Written by
shay-ruth
Guyanese
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
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