Blood stained snow,
resembling cruel bedsheets,
in the winter wind.
A hand written sign,
in a window.
Beer and liquor,
I need the warmth,
of knowing death
is not as cold as life.
Leave a comment
Filed under History, outlaw poetry, poetry
Tagged as death, drinking, snow, winter
Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )
Connecting to %s
Notify me of new comments via email.
Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Join 1,104 other followers