There are teeth in my swimming pool
But I have drugs, so it's okay
I lost my armpits in the war
But that's okay, because mouths grew in their place
And every night, a man made of cornbread comes out of my closetand he kisses me on the mouth
And he tells me in a gentle whisper,
"I lost the game"
YOU ARE READING
Deep, Meaningful Poetry
PoetryA collection of my very own original poems. Sorry if I make you cry.