When I grow old enough to be sent to the stars
Lay me to rest in the deep caverns of the moons craters
Let the only sound space ever makes be the sigh of relief the universe feels
Finally letting the burden of me go
YOU ARE READING
Before I Blackout
PoetryMy best work is done when I'm on the edge of blacking out, when you finally stop trying to pretend you have a grip on what runs though your mind, you should try writing with your eyes half closed and your mind wide open. This may be an on going pro...
