Fire
I've got to step on your toes With my pinky fingers Walking down the tracks Where a man deliberately Got
Sinkhole
Tonight we sit in the silence of disappointment It doesn't echo like the comfort of snow It's miserable. Darkness comes
Memory
You are the piece of memory I preserve To take me back in time of days of people, Who as of now,
Fear
Because something beneath him was rumbling. Too distant to be his stomach. Too close to be his mind. His heart
Fried
I'm so tired. I'm tired of writing poetry about you. Poetry that confuses you And uses me Like needle-fine thread that breaks
Walking Tall
Let that boy tell you 'bout his ego. Let that boy's swag make his knee pop by accident. Wanna walk
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