deepundergroundpoetry.com
Gray Hill
It's all but
bones in the fray
a puppeteer with cut strings
Nooses and skeletons
telling stories
colors can't describe
in the heat of things
All the passion is poison rotten out of an apple born from a tree that is crooked and doesn't ever admit that it's twisting
and screaming
It's all a wolf in the bray.
A winter sky ;
Laying bare under the stars
but not sleeping.
Metal roofs slammed with thick rain.
bones in the fray
a puppeteer with cut strings
Nooses and skeletons
telling stories
colors can't describe
in the heat of things
All the passion is poison rotten out of an apple born from a tree that is crooked and doesn't ever admit that it's twisting
and screaming
It's all a wolf in the bray.
A winter sky ;
Laying bare under the stars
but not sleeping.
Metal roofs slammed with thick rain.
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