Ben Sparaco

I walked past a girl whose face was like a dream,
My friends around me looked up and then began to scream,
Children looked across the street looked at their parents and leaned,
For this girls face was the most terrifying that I have ever seen,
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A perfect house,
No torture or a blood thirsty spouse,
No holes or tears only a mouse,
And not a fear of being ripped by the hair only louse,
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One more pill no I will have two,
Just sixteen more bottles I have went through,
I told you they were vitemins these are lies for you,
Just a little thinner,
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We were on that building so tall,
How fastly you began to fall,
How hard I tried to hold your grip,
How could I have let you slip,
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The bones in his chest,
A perfect place for these thoughts to rest,
The thinness in his blood,
Makes his tears weld up,
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The sun came too late,
The moon came too soon,
This is where I will spend my life,
Locked inside this white room,
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Here is my prose,
All based on a single orange rose,
Grave grass springing,
Church hyms their singing,
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No child left with a smile,
No coffin was left open for a while,
Tear drops fell like the Nile,
The the childs love sent a chill,
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I let you warm my heart so cold,
I never saw you be in control,
In the end my life is what you stole,
And in graves passage you took a stroll,
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In a shallow summer day,
No child left their home to play,
Even birds were left to stay,
A toxic wasteland kept their mask on their face was not to flay,
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I feel breath wasting,
As time is pacing on a terrible dream,
When in my coffin my shoes they are lacing,
And with a knife they are tracing,
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With a drug my imagination did create,
I feel my room spinning and a lision was fate,
For my help came to late,
And funeral role call my name was to state,
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