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Lovers
March 11, 2016
There is no metaphor for the words that I speak
No chapel for my sins, no castle for this King
I am Mr. Benzodrine
Been having better dreams
The world is pretty dark
Though things are better than they seem
I know you want to find me
But I've put myself behind me
There is no better chord for the words that I preach
Reciting all my words cause' I am sick at poetry
Mess of a kind
Not like the others
Respect to the world
Respect to your mothers
Place your hand in mine
Both my sisters and my brothers
Keep it if you can
Keeping shining on, you lovers
© Melanie M., Hendersonville, TN
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