I thought the cold air would help
But there's only ******* smoke
Free ****, I'm living the dream of a million burnt out lungs
with capillaries astray -
Sadness is a comfort
Happiness burns against my eyelids
It sears against the grey -
Age doesn't matter as long as you pay
Head high to keep the nausea at bay;
Visions blur, thought the alcohol in my
backpack somehow took effect
it was just the ******* smoke.
woah, It's been a year since I visited this site. (It's been a year since I wrote a poem).
Yeah but Beijing pollution ***** I threw up 5 times yesterday
