Ring-a-ring o' roses
A pocket full of posies
I've had the worst week ever
Remembering the forgotten years
I'm saccharine, it's one of the common themes
Another part of the daily routine
Blue winds sing love songs on the plane
As green as the greenest grass
With a chip on my shoulder I've been daydreaming
I have been lost in a pool of emotions
With my elbows placed firmly on ageless wood
I am bored following the rules of the sun
I am never-ending
Water dripping from a tap in a gross building
The ice tips of an ocean wave
A constellation
Stressed out and aching
In the night, I'm a fire hazard
A banana split, sticky like maple syrup
Dopey and tired, in my haven
I've came to a precise understanding
The rapture has gone and living is arduous
I'm like a real for holding thread
Crying like a blackbird
When will it be over?
I can't take anymore
Ghostly echoes, purple fogs, days wanting to die
Like the horizon sewed to the duck-egg blue sky
I can never get a break like a dartboard
I try my best to answer questions
But nothing matters at all when you're six
Like an excited child on Christmas
Got everything on your wishlist
You're priceless
In the present like a concept
Upside down and inside out
I have seen them like moons, like dunes
Like choppy sea waves or a damn monkey wrench
Reading about A Curse Against Elegies
I can't get a minute to breathe
I'm always making up excuses
I'm brave and cowardly
Going places I never expected
I feel at home on streets
Corrugated
Stood in silence
Around the factory noises
Like I'm a timepiece breaking promises
I have more magic tricks up my sleeve
Cuts and bruises
Always got something to complain about
The dark clouds burst and the rain showers down
As if it's a simple chord progression
Like a symptom
By the satin, red curtains
And the flatscreen television
I ate a tiger for dinner
Went to my tiger orchard
And went donkey mad at an apple feast
It was comical taxidermy
I wanted more tigers
Like I love the smell of rich dirt and hearty grass
My favourite, as well as the pink sheep
Ring-a-ring o' roses
A pocket full of posies
I've had the worst week ever.
- Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: June 28th, 2020 10:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.