Blood shot,
Dry snot,
Assortments of all you've shown.
All these rights, and all these wrongs,
I have a horn I want to hone.
I am so drowsy tonight,
Your nostrils burn like light.
All these years,
I never had a spine.
You are so hyper tonight,
Assortments of all you've shown.
All these rights, and all these wrongs,
I have a horn you want to hone.
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
(Originally written 5/30/09
Revised 9/30/14)
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
Blood shot,
Dry snot,
Assortments of all you've shown.
All these rights, and all these wrongs,
I have a horn I want to hone.
I am so drowsy tonight,
Your nostrils burn like light.
All these years,
I never had a spine.
You are so hyper tonight,
Assortments of all you've shown.
All these rights, and all these wrongs,
I have a horn you want to hone.
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
(Originally written 5/30/09
Revised 9/30/14)
Request permission to use this poem