deepundergroundpoetry.com

the red crayon

 
you set me on fire
with your wet works
pissed on me
so I could burn a little longer

up north psychology
called me crazy
and in your eyes justified

the smiles in the skies of the broken
lusted for my death
but I would not relent

my pursuit of the red crayon
underlining my psychosis
would not be denied

you see I have a gold star
from the maker


Written by smackdownraven
Published
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