femalepoet
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The feeling at hand brings on trouble and issues that I cannot stand
It changes my plans and unfortunately, I cannot fuflll its demands
I cannot grasp or understand, but I am only aware of how I'm in a jam
Sorrow sorrow brother is deadCremated into ashes put in a jar the new child tot tot topples it overWhat to do what can be doneScramble to scoop brother back into his homeSome ashes are missedLicked up by the cat
When I die, my body will become the grass
When I’m gone, there will be a crack on the glass
My spirit will be an overwhelming mass
And my footsteps will cause an earthquake in class
The beat and lyrics that I always hear
Makes the poet inside me wanna appear
Incomparable beauty like the Santa Monica pier
Addictive like when my dead cousin swallowed the beer
