When they come

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More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
scourge

Submitted: May 07, 2009

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Submitted: May 07, 2009

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Wickedly, Worrisome they wallow down the street,

Irritating frustrating, bumping and weaving

to some strange internal beat.

 

You are hated you know,

your arrogance, the anger you cause.

You think you own the streets.

 

The scourge of our cities and roads,

little angry fat toads,

loaded with sheep.

 

Off he bounces into the shadows,

dissapearing into the night,

only to come frustrate, tomorrow, another day.


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