Aim Low - Poem by kalifornia graves
destitute, abandoned and scared
no more time for crying
I share my gifts amongst the world
all the while i'm dying
my body mind and soul
they wither and they crumble
i sit alone in blood soaked clothes
hearing voices as i mumble
i try to pray but can't form words
so i carve my prayer
into my arm with a blade
blood drooling down the stairs......
my prayer's complete, my prayer is carved
i seal it with a kiss
with blood soaked lips
i hit my smoke
and ash into my piss......
it's below me mixed with blood.....
i crack and smile
my prayer is answered and it's this.....
to be here bleeding on these stairs
aim low you'll never miss
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye