2 September 2012

No oxygen, No air, How am I meant to breathe?

Nothing here, Nor there, I'll just sit and seethe.

You took away, My breath, And with it my life.

I feel I'm facing, Death, He's wielding his black scythe.

I just want to, Run, To get away from here.

Being with you is, No fun, I wish you'd just disappear.

Maybe I will, Live, To tell another tale.

Or perhaps I'll, Go with, Someone who doesn't make me wail.

PlatypusGo Away • Opuss № I