Kill, the Night

This is another nonsensical poem.

I confess: I’m forgetful, a guy who can’t remember his underwear, let alone be...
Some boys don’t have a conscience; they lie.
Is their loyalty outdated, and why can't faith suffice,

with a girl whose heart is made of dried ice?

Seeing a frown, that’s worth a thousand words somewhere,
yet, I’m left without a blurb, a heart, or a paddle to spare.

We didn’t eat, but we keep coughing up the feathers of a crow.
Someone should’ve instructed her in safety. Warning: when out of line, a toe,
it can, and will, be severed for use in any nearby block party or street show.

I noticed you ditching your outfit for street clothes, blending, rotating in a manner alike other cogs.
You're going the way the herd goes, it’s alright; I know.

Babe, your choices are written on your forehead, and, boy, have you let yourself go.
Nevertheless, I get knocked aside by your eyes, every damned time, row by row.

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

well this is one of the best I have read in some time...It is the sort of poetry I would love to have written..Maybe though I should stick to kids humour...You have so many great lines in this it is impossible to pick out just one..Keep this up....God...I sound like a teacher

[Brenden Bow]

Thank you for your kind input, and, really, I'm not that great. :3 It's kinda just how my head works.

[Dr. Wood ?]

we are all great in our own way..you have a head that works fine