You made your bed
With your own bare hands.
Yet you won't lay into it,
Even when it was made by you.
Well, you better sleep before your dead,
Without any reason to understand.
So, don't try and fight it.
Even when the bed was made by you.
For it's no book you red.
Or any church you were banned.
May you never know it
Until you lie into the bed made by you.
View User's Journal
Poetry From Me...
No one seems to read them anymore.
Poems left and right but no where to go.
Either read them...
Or...well...I don't know.
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User Comments: [1]
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User Comments: [1]