I saw you die long ago,
hit-and-run
in a minor hit, a short run. You stole
like Pepper’s ghost through walls of
imagination, white on white, bitter as
a dead man set to die a second time.
in a minor hit, a short run. You stole
like Pepper’s ghost through walls of
imagination, white on white, bitter as
a dead man set to die a second time.
No comments:
Post a Comment