Perspective is a slut who never puts out



I sat on the swings in Victoria park trying to sort what I wanted to do about men who aren’t you when the tears came this time

And it’s like the world froze

Everything was in slow motion

The earth was dead

The park was barren

Everything was gray and sombre as a winter’s day

It was cold

And no matter where I panned my blurry blood shot eyes

Emptiness was found

No people

No ducks

No morality

Just me and my music and a clouded December sky

The perfect place to admit I miss your love

The perfect place to cry

Author's Notes/Comments: 

and still I did not find what I went to look for...


Beavis the title is just for you ;)

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Beavis's picture


I love the poem! It's even colder & bleaker than this wet & windy January night, but that title is pure Rabbit genius & takes it to another level ;-)

running_with_rabbits's picture

:) te-he

I KNEW you'd love that title, just knew it ;)

Much Love