Poems from recordscratch
The only thing I find important,
is the mixing of words called poetry.
Depsite the fact mine's irrelevant,
It's the only thing I have left...
You should have gone before class,
Why the hell are you late?
Let me see your hall pass,
No this is not up for debate.
You shouldn't be...
It's too late I'm dead inside,
Body's cold,
Eyes are wide.
Soul is sold,
One last breath,
Take it in but nothings left.
Floating here it...