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#44

A poem

By Alex BarryPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
1
#44
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Is that there rain or smoke

Does it still make you choke

Are you up still in pain

I think it’s gonna rain

Are those coils that there you feeling

Soaked and boiled, sounds appealing

Like rats in a pot, ready for stew

Take their bones, make ‘em anew

Hope I never cross that off my list

And am I still the one you miss?

Nope, so again it’s into the mist

Hope is always hard to resist

So it might be smoke or rain

Does it matter, all the same pain

Things I could never fully explain

I’ll probably do it all again, shame

And I’ll do anything to keep you sad

Oh no, I guess now you’re mad

And I’ll do anything to be your man

Oh no, I guess now you’ll crash

Hold over the dead, rice and gold

Dogs follow paths, well worn and old

Your Lord can allow it to be told

Once more, it was my soul sold

Now get weird, here rolls in the fog

Sound left with light, I saw a god

Your Lies gotta face and it’s bald

fluid in your head, it will scald

Made for each other, two cogs

Never had to stare into maws

Never had to, don’t get to sob

No fucking time, all out my head

The birds haunt you, hear ‘em caw

The boys want you, fucked up and raw

Some want your head, they use a saw

These Memories cursed, kept in a vault

And I’ll do anything to love you my dear

And I Really hate to see you go, ya hear

And you won’t know what I have to say

Just know this, it’s all going to be okay

surreal poetry
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