The Gun On Me Poem by Okan Emanet
The Gun On Me
Mystery is a game left with only unknown scars,
Which you can dance by sleeping into a road of hell,
Surround yourself with a cell,
Try and sell your bloody body
Never put forward your damned smell
I want to go pale while your very skin is on sale,
I long to disappear just as you are to become pear,
A farewell to your inaccessibility...
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
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5/11/2024 9:29:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
