Wednesday 17 February 2010

.



Have some poetry:

Outside the train station, summer, kissing the devine boy.
He had dirty hair, he started pulling my dreadlocks.
I watched him stand on the bridge.
He didn't exactly hate me, but I hated his family.
We chatted about why we fucked off in London, I was getting really cross.
I kept my rings from before I was sick.

- Dagger.

No comments:

Post a Comment