You say you love me, I think I love myself,
You are short, my heart's high up this shelf,
I'll make a damn graveyard, with this poem,
The guy I see in my mirror you do owe him,
Few prayers, oceans of tears, to this, Amen,
I kill no ladies, my gun only points, at men,
A thorny tree, you'd still dare steal my fruits,
Conflict of ideologies, take flowers or fruits,
Make your damn choice, I'll water the roots,
Point it at you, spit, lick my lip and it shoots,
If lucky, crawl home with none of your boots.
"Crawl Home"
Drew Poetry
~Andy Mwalasha
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I was once as clean as a newly hatched chic's beak, but you turned me into hell's doormat. Misery's doorbell on pain's bunke... -
Gone are the days that you'd rest your head on my chest and smell the scent of my ripe goosebumps, those days that I would lose count o...
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An all wrapping book. Our fore-fathers named it "Life". Well, we adopted the same name and so, we also call it "Life". A...
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