Dead Town.

Grounded by a happiness unfound,

Communicated using words profound.

Sometimes the mentally unsound,

Are the sanest ones around town.

Imagination.

“Lips of an angel,”

You said.

“That must’ve been lovely,”

She cheered.

Silence.

Little did she know it was her.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: