Of lines
my own designs
Fight me
What I can see
Too hard
I keep my card
Closed chest
What said it best
I know
But doesn't show
I heard
Rumours in words
I wrote
And gave them note
I lied
Truth was implied
I hid
Oh One last bid
To say
In words I lay
Bound by
The tight rules I always fuck up.
Quick Kicks
There is a hard truth and alluring personality to your poems.
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not