The War, by George Chow Subscribe to rss feed for George Chow

You got that bit drop of blood make you hungry.
I got that put of flesh make me excite.
The party is out smoke with ugly.
The commune is out search for more scorn.
Death is on the line find friends.
Win or loose is a bet out of you mind.
Just to keep myself more standable.
How do i care to see and find God.
Until there is no care of what make who i am and you are.
I find my gun written origins without a return.
Posted: 2015-03-12 03:16:03 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.
Tweet