these thoughts are why i have no friends
Tuesday
back pocket poem
Leave me where the angels cry.
Maybe they can heal my wounds.
Shoot high, higher than the sky sits.
Leave me where the angels cry.
Maybe they can heal my wounds.
Shoot high, higher than the sky sits.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
View mobile version
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment