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m-clementPoems
I wish my hands were rockets So I could see the show Watching them blast off, whe'er they go I don't really want them anymore So to them I wave adieu Well, I would if I had hands... Instead I flop arms Like a seal waiting for a meal at your local circus I pitch tents And people sometimes visit (read: never) but a few have wanted to see the show And see me bark They probly honk the horn better than I In the end of the day I pray for a sickness to leave my body And to not struggle anymore But I don't think that's really the point I think it's a story about rising above... I'm still at the ocean floor, though And there's a long way up but away from the dreary, let's focus on cheery As I carve pumpkins in the shape of silence There's nothing in April for the stuff in October So I fold over a game of poker For another month or two Pour me a drink, Scottie! A fifth of *** and a shot o' her Wondering eyes cut ties to those morals we hold most dear None of you are mine, and I have little right to peer over as I do But oh, do I Wondering eyes are best plucked out by Ravens Like that's so Edgar Allen Poe Half Black females can squander careers... or blame it on the ***** or disney channel Spring Break, *******
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Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
If I were James Franco, I'd be rapper too, and I would have stayed the hell out of Oz
I wish my hands were rockets So I could see the show Watching them blast off, whe'er they go I don't really want them anymore So to them I wave adieu Well, I would if I had hands... Instead I flop arms Like a seal waiting for a meal at your local circus I pitch tents And people sometimes visit (read: never) but a few have wanted to see the show And see me bark They probly honk the horn better than I In the end of the day I pray for a sickness to leave my body And to not struggle anymore But I don't think that's really the point I think it's a story about rising above... I'm still at the ocean floor, though And there's a long way up but away from the dreary, let's focus on cheery As I carve pumpkins in the shape of silence There's nothing in April for the stuff in October So I fold over a game of poker For another month or two Pour me a drink, Scottie! A fifth of *** and a shot o' her Wondering eyes cut ties to those morals we hold most dear None of you are mine, and I have little right to peer over as I do But oh, do I Wondering eyes are best plucked out by Ravens Like that's so Edgar Allen Poe Half Black females can squander careers... or blame it on the ***** or disney channel Spring Break, *******
m-clement
Written by
m-clement
American
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
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