Treasure Island

david bailey

(4/30/1991 / manhatten)

death


Death
Death is like the weather
Unpredictable and swift
Her body was hallow as a tree
My dear heather why did you leave me

Corrupted like a priest with no morels
My heart hard as a rock
Corrupted by the site of your blood
Tormented by the look on your face

Pale as the sun when I look up
Blinded by the flash of the gun
Deafened by the sound of the bang
Pierced by the lost of you

Why do I think about you?
Like I think about my girl
You’re not close to me as she
So why does your death affect me

Submitted: Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Edited: Sunday, December 13, 2009

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