Ratchel’s eyes are inked and darkening,
her perfectly scared smile is to die for.
She expects the worse or at least nothing,
putting up walls to kick down the door.
Promises really piss her off when faking,
empty dried eyes and disperet cries roar.
Pathetic words of silence waiting for writing,
choke us all with shouting tears ready to pour.
This is how it feels when a new day is coming,
if she likes my poem bad enough maybe I’ll score.
dead beat poet 