by Madison Volz
He cut his feet on bladed grass
Sitting in our silenced nonsense
Watching beer bottle eyes
Drunk
Being young the illness
Symptoms based on stupidity
He was just a boy
To naïve to swallow the truths
She loved him
But not his father
The new guys were “just friends”
Exciting in a short time
He couldn’t know
Drunks are attracted to light
A glowing beam of a Chevy
Caught his attention
Waking to breaking news
His mother never
Did look good
Dressed in black
Showing posts with label Madison Volz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Madison Volz. Show all posts
Sunday, December 7, 2014
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