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This was once the floor I laid
Whom I craved and so adored…
One I was hundred percent sure
Until it mixed my baking flour
With beautiful ashes and dust
Covering gun powder and rust.
Hence, I am a running fly
Running from sorrows and lies
Pouring down like southern rain
Served as cakes, to wash my brain
On and by the floor, where I lie
Is a place I never wish to die.
I don’t need to pull triggers Even when I am a wild tiger I don’t need to stretch out claws To prove it’s sharp on…
I was a dark horse, torn and scattered, Till an organizer picked me up She mend my broken heart anew Filling my head with rose…
Oh what an ecstasy To cry rivers in sleep, Taking bullets from guns And tears; yet, not move on. If I bleed and still dance…
Dead is melody without chemistry, Running away fixes such broken pieces, Providing a shade for the past to fade, I just can not die, for…
Good one
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