deepundergroundpoetry.com
Get out of my head.
Robin, you are my shot in the dark.
Hooded wonder, handsome Archer,
Take this bow and arrow, please?
I want to see you bend the light,
Confront the target dead at night.
My canines sharpen any arrow,
Crook's spine, impressive arch,
My hair. Spun. This is a weapon.
My contest? Just count the losses.
Cunning fox, I've got your crosses!
Where's the Friar with the fruit?
I miss his fire, struck him dumb.
Trust the air; aim downwards. Blunt.
You're the apple of my eye,
Oh.
Sweet acerbic suicide.[/font]
Hooded wonder, handsome Archer,
Take this bow and arrow, please?
I want to see you bend the light,
Confront the target dead at night.
My canines sharpen any arrow,
Crook's spine, impressive arch,
My hair. Spun. This is a weapon.
My contest? Just count the losses.
Cunning fox, I've got your crosses!
Where's the Friar with the fruit?
I miss his fire, struck him dumb.
Trust the air; aim downwards. Blunt.
You're the apple of my eye,
Oh.
Sweet acerbic suicide.[/font]
Published 1st Dec 2009
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1st Dec 2009 8:19am
20th Dec 2009 11:19pm
24th Mar 2010 5:21pm
