A prescription in the horizon
A sense of dread
A ventricle seems to stop
It kills you but excites you
The thought of going through it again
Now your mind expands with the possibilities
You wonder of the probabilities
The curves and the tangents
The representative values
All the while you fail to realize
As it is written in a tiny scribble
The warning, almost unseen
Store under room temperature
by: Quarkinator, April 17, 2008
No comments:
Post a Comment