33 lines
939 B
Plaintext
Executable File
33 lines
939 B
Plaintext
Executable File
all these dang trees everywhere
|
|
2020-01-17
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
can you reach the stars from here where we stand?
|
|
you'll have to open your eyes first, and stretch out a hand
|
|
and maybe, if you're lucky, the clouds will cede
|
|
and the horizon you wanted will be yours to receive
|
|
|
|
if you mind, can you please pass the milk?
|
|
they say, in the outdoors, it tastes just like silk
|
|
fine words- but revolting; my stomach churns like a pool
|
|
delicacies do not go well with the worries of a fool
|
|
|
|
what's on your mind? what's going on at home?
|
|
have the police caught on yet that we've decided to roam?
|
|
I wonder if Mother even cares where we are
|
|
or if she's more concerned with the Spectacle, with interviews and news cars
|
|
|
|
why does the sky have to be blue?
|
|
why not gray to reflect a burgeoning city
|
|
or green to reflect the mass amounts of trees here
|
|
because that seems to be one of the only things here
|
|
|
|
trees
|
|
trees
|
|
and more trees.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|