Pissing in the wind
Missing all your friends
Keep running backwards
You talk but lack words
...
Sitting by an hour glass,
Starring at the stars.
Sitting as the hours pass,
Starring at the stars.
...
French Canadian girl studying violin performance in the US. My mother was Breton, so I learned playing Celtic tunes on violin growing up. Poetry was something I started doing after she died, and most of it will never see the light outside of my pink notebooks.)
Just A Game
Pissing in the wind
Missing all your friends
Keep running backwards
You talk but lack words
Of your own
Oh you moan
All alone
Crawling home
Dreaming dreams
Oh it seems
Very mean
But I've seen
People change
Try to change
Bloody veins
All the same
It's a game
Just a game.
You have a lovely bio, almost a poem itself.