"bobkatz" poems
I had a silver dollar,
I lost it to the breeze.
I don't mind,
It didn't help me to breath.
You always say recover,
always say you will,
anarchy won't set you free,
but i am through rehearsing
all these lines i've been prescribed
to find success.
I am through rehearsing.
I am through.
Oxygen,
you take for granted.
Mr. high end man,
you're all alone.
Mr. nobody's home,
cut the ****
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC