I want to run up the stairs with grand determination
Just like rocky balboa did before losing a good fight
I want to pump my hands up in the air and cry a good fit
I sigh, for at the end of it all I just want to cry
And I just wanted to state that
I want it to be known
I want it to be felt
I wanted to plant a seed
Of sour cherries on a honeycomb
To wake up from this nightmare is my fondest wish
To pierce the veil can be my biggest threat
To fondue the brain, will be my kitchen confidential
To my dispirited soul I advise, that this too shall piss away
Back to a sleep
of a thousand
red poisoned apples I go
Categories: Poetry
May the thousand poisoned apples be eaten only by nefarious rats, leaving you with a cherry tree seeking companionship with a honeycomb.
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Ah. Love it. Thanks
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