in pent up time
of where we’d be;
and angry drawn out
marks
between the lines
of where we were
and what was yet to come
in tiny space
of merry madness
tickling at my soul
the clocks strong hands
defeat the day
and i shrink down
to none.
in pent up time
of where we’d be;
and angry drawn out
marks
between the lines
of where we were
and what was yet to come
in tiny space
of merry madness
tickling at my soul
the clocks strong hands
defeat the day
and i shrink down
to none.