Good People
- Muse Giacalone
- Oct 22, 2016
- 1 min read
I want their faces.
Layered years of fresh bark
As skin.
Rays through the head of a tree,
As teeth.
Stretched-out roads, like linen cloth,
As limbs.
And then..
That awful, knowing eye,
Filled as in a flask,
Of something I can’t live up to sometime be.
Comentarios