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I’m in the bush and I’m wasted which means you’re stuck with..
🕑 Added 2020-12-30 19:10:33 +0000 UTC I’m in the bush and I’m wasted which means you’re stuck with my poetry.... My book is full spilled ink form no words And who are you to think You could read this masterpiece Skin of century old papyrus pigment stories memory cannot see Picture me unframed An artwork snarled in travesty Imprisoning by what’s lost and passed Created by those who inherit history atop the bodies of slain secrets My book is full of reckoning Spilled bl00d soak the promising My book is heavy It’s rotten to the core Your book is unwritten I colour in dreadful strokes of delight Who was I to think I could write your story for you You, ignorant seed that waters the rivers You’re a ch1ld of their fortune Free of the curse of curiosity Your time will come I fell for your simplicity I fell into those pages of shade Defiled them with my madness Leaking from the holes in my heart I thought you were mine but when the rain came it washed away Your book, the book Full of empty promises My time has come And your time is up
