Children of the mind

 

Come close
Knock
Come closer,
No more.

Do you know when they opened up the children’s park,
they had a war
with little children running in circles–
trick’o treat!
Do you know,
I have those little children
Running over my forehead
bleeding away

What a Syrian war–
trick’o treat!

I usually write slow songs
Otherwise my fingers pluck themselves away
And I’ve to look for them over the ceilings

‘Ugh you are so dramatic!’

Bang Bang I go
into the moon
my hands fly, so does my words
Vis-a-vis my temple,
where little–
monstrous children play,
deluding
the writer and his muse.

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