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mark-tilfordPoems
hot turns to cold this is getting old it's out of control which ever way the wind blows we both go again the craziness we cannot let go what is there to hold the things that have been told hide and go seek keeps us at our peak the slips the love that occasionally leaks two freaks the hand print left on my cheek the mean streak makes us complete week to week when things seems bleak does not make us weak the games i blame you blame there is no shame we both came tame not our claim to fame the games will never change not our strange we never stay estranged the games the power the desire we play the games
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Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
the games
hot turns to cold this is getting old it's out of control which ever way the wind blows we both go again the craziness we cannot let go what is there to hold the things that have been told hide and go seek keeps us at our peak the slips the love that occasionally leaks two freaks the hand print left on my cheek the mean streak makes us complete week to week when things seems bleak does not make us weak the games i blame you blame there is no shame we both came tame not our claim to fame the games will never change not our strange we never stay estranged the games the power the desire we play the games
mark-tilford
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mark-tilford
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
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