he knows well his wicked ways
a course of bitterness
a grudge held from his childhood days
as if life had loved him less
this feather saved my life one november night.
it won't fall from the clear sky again.
reading down his list of names
he ticks them one by one
he points the barrel at the sky
firing shots off at the sun
for a girl that shoots at snowflakes -
is there a way to turn the curse?
shooting at snowflakes.. and where do the bullets drop ?
ReplyDeleteif i shoot upwards, i wait and catch them with my teeth.
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