My thoughts are like hail
I am like hail.
Hail they scrape from their view
And as I swirl around this hell in a dandelion
I see the world in plaid boxes.
But they don’t want me to see at all.
I know how to play their morbid game
And put my swords against the morbid name.
But all that ends up crying from my tongue is sorry.
I just wait for this pictures headache to go away.
Wait as the herds of vomit carry me away.
I’m dripping in their experience
Coated with their hearts seizures.
They kick me with legs attached to spinal cords of demons.
And I know how to ride the wall,
But all I end up saying is sorry.
My knees have to tremble to stay inside,
I have to sit in the needles to stay warm.
I’m the man on the sand, and he will grab my hand.
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Submission Name: Untitled(for now)
