deepundergroundpoetry.com

Push me my arms are tired

My mind walks home...A frail shell like host the underdog in a plethora of tortoise and hare insinuations.Curiously pushed along,glued to lust,his weelchair...

Eyes shift...
Mute.

Guided by bells. 1 for yes and 2 for no. Death? his question and......
DING!
Written by Swords
Published
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