I want these words
Good and bloody
A battle each verse
These poems should be battles
Pulling apart my soul
Stripping down my bones
And I want my palms to be covered
In ink, smeared in the blood
Of dictionaries
I want these words
Good and bloody
A battle each verse
These poems should be battles
Pulling apart my soul
Stripping down my bones
And I want my palms to be covered
In ink, smeared in the blood
Of dictionaries