midnight skies, those beautiful highs
just looking for that perfect high
you make me sigh
I feel high
the old I'll die
standing i
to me am i
falling shortly
to this dismay
to sleep again
to unfray
to feel this way
today today
i am what they say
t h e y c a l l e d it Black
t h e y c a l l e d it White
I am not G R E Y
those beautiful highs chasing the lows
the you in i following as goes
beautiful highs
you take me like skies
don't wanna fly down
I hate the low
getting high off midnight skies
under moonlight, the late of times
YOU ARE READING
Ouidas' Rose
Poetrya collection of rambles, of shattered letters, of quiet musings and heart throbs that feel like drum drops someone grab my teddy bear so I no longer feel the darkness
