Sunday, June 18, 2017

Correspondence

Dear Mr. Flash Gordon,
It's been a hot evening
More in the clothes I don
In wooden walls shaking,
And the smell of burnt food,
Seeping through the brown wood.

Tell me all the secrets,
Ones you would never share,
All of your past regrets,
And I'll make you aware
Of the great mess I'm in,
Every shame, every sin.

When living crazy lives,
With crazy pals besides,
Where your heart resides.

It pays to have a friend
To cry with and to share,
To inspire to no end,
So we are both aware
We are not alone through
Letters of me and you.
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