Markthetabor

Cog

I spin round and round seeing all these damn roses but nobody to share them with 

 

Its as if they picture me as a clown who’s consistently high off of a gram of whatever was in the sidewalk cracks



I’m the fucking jester who imposes 



The one who writes his name in chalk as to ensure they know it by heart

 

Even though I know that it will just fade away



Cause uncle sam needs everything spick and span