Pliable Sunday

Sunday's nights I rarely sleep

Bent and worn from a weekend reaper

Waltzing through a fleeting few hours

Shying away the vicious outward tones

Rest your jaw and speak the sheep

Wander and wake without strain

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It'll never be completed, and it's already gone down hill. I'll leave it to rot.

View sivus's Full Portfolio
tags: