Flick

My Childhood bore statues of passing things

Oak scented floors past pews and laughing

Kings

With a lazy eye grandpa always stared at me

So there it was these just melting candles

stink

Though, where because Jesus felt his hands will

Think!

What were you

trying to

In the end it’s just ashes in a tray

You can only look so cool

My father always answered important questions

With a one syllable

cough

Look farther away the cancer it sorted deaths ends

This fun it will all

Cost

One thought on “Flick”

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