I want to meet him.
Death.
The one who has taken
everything from me to keep.
We must be similar if we
love all of the same things.
Pitcher
Many say they’re tired
But does your skin fall from your bones?
Do your eyes sink in the sockets
And your mouth go dry as stone?
Some people are a pitcher
And others are a cup
The pitcher pours and pours
But the cups they never fill up
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Death
I want to meet him. Death. The one who has taken everything from me to keep. We must be similar if we love all of the same things.
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Many say they’re tired But does your skin fall from your bones? Do your eyes sink in the sockets And your mouth go dry as stone? Some peo...