Gently breathing
Lit by the morning sun
Through the night
It had been raining venom
I don’t want to be kind
Not a bullet in the right place
Or just of two minds
More important than important
The Tragically Hip.
Original Poetry about anything and everything.
Gently breathing
Lit by the morning sun
Through the night
It had been raining venom
I don’t want to be kind
Not a bullet in the right place
Or just of two minds
More important than important
The Tragically Hip.