The first attempt
may be random...
Sometimes I feel an itch
forming on my lips...
I know of angels
who walk amongst...
The devil in sheep clothing
In its transmutation...
Life is just a landfill
Of all our wasted days...
I sit at the bus stop, @ 9:03
What, my friend, do you see...
As I sit here in this quiet room,
The silence it just kills me...
I am Mama's baby
her best one...
I see the dormice
scurrying home...
Perfect
I catch myself thinking...
I admire the sky
Only on the cloudy days...
Words hold power, greater than a sword,
It has the ability to hinder or move us forward...