words don’t travel as they use to
blocked by mountains
scared of river beds
drowning in wastelands
bringing death, to her knees
singing her song
that sweet
last song
Writing, Ideas, & Stories
words don’t travel as they use to
blocked by mountains
scared of river beds
drowning in wastelands
bringing death, to her knees
singing her song
that sweet
last song
i crave the peace
trapped in a box
of screaming wildebeest
stomping around singing
it’s a small world after all,
this is what they’ll see on my final days
death by Lion King,
they’ll laugh at that joke on their final meetup
doing what it was intended,
never want them to see the madness
just the joke