"pinoco" poems
its four in the morning
and m all alone
except for the shadows
that call me home
the darkness is mingling
with the tears that fall
giving strength to the demons
that await in the hall
there is nothing left
of this sour of mine
it has broken away
and its so hard to find
there nothing left
for me to show
its been taken away
by my ghosts
.
.
by pinoco
thanks for reading
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC