Poems from thelastplasmabender
If only I could live
But Happily Ever After
Is a myth in itself.
Like gnarled fingers from the grave
Reaching out to kill the brave
The twisted roots bend and curl.
Into the sleep from which one never...
Don't you hate it-
'Cause I know I do-
When someone throws out
Something by you?
See, I had a list made
Of ideas to write,
When someone...
The itch began down on my knee,
And from that spot crawled all over me,
It jumped to my arm,
Then moved safe from all harm,
To that place...
It trips and then falls
The spark from the cloud carpet
Lights its startled face.