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based on three words given to me
Submitted:Sep 14, 2011 Reads: 7 Comments: 1 Likes: 0
I dwell in the cup of night
so cold its heat surrounds the soul
embalmed with a false sense of warmth-
my tea cup collects my fortune
as I sing a street tune.
I wittle a fiddle from my tears
string it with a tall tale
and perform with it
like im dueling the devil
where is my pedestal?
a rouse from people pretending with me
a turue entertainer, unable to sustain from tips they give me...
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Other writing by firephoenix 6108 sonnet 213 droppings street performing "now really who throws a shoe" sword forged ink blot diagnosis
Poetry, Poem, Life, Death, Pain, Sad, About, Heart, Hurt, Depression, Hate, Hope, Romance, Sadness, Dark, Loss, Lost, God, My, You, Girl, Alone, Broken, Suicide, Me, Fear, Friendship, Nature, Time, Friends, Anger, Joy, Tears, Family, Dream