Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine
the party.
girls
sneak downstairs
brush
noiseless
past
leaning over
stairwells
listening quietly.
i don't mean to interrupt private conversations.
the party.
girls
sneak downstairs
brush
noiseless
past
leaning over
stairwells
listening quietly.
i don't mean to interrupt private conversations.
I write like this when I'm high. That piecy kind of poetry that doesn't really make too much sense to people who weren't really there. But I love it. It always seems to have more personal meaning that way.
AND I feel twice as special knowing what each line means as the inside-reader=)
And btw, I have a poem in response to this...but you'll have to ask me for it. Because I'm feeling fiesty. That's why.
[Edited on Jun 19, 2005 1:56AM]