in #art2 years ago (edited)

My gaime, your gaime is totally different,
If we tell gently, gently all we shall one day have to tell,
It wasn't my fault I wasn't born with blue prints,
You know at all cost I have to form well

It was painful, difficult wasn't easy all through,
My gaime is a dark night you wouldn't want to go through,
The pencil that that goes in and out enjoys the enjoyment,
The dark hole was in pain all through the moment.

It was all for blue prints to attend blue prints home,
The blue prints home was a place I desire,
My gaime was thorns that cut through my bones,
My red prints shelter wasn't a help althrough.

My gaime was thorns and dark night,
My game was splitting my precious dream,
My ball was clean,
my field was smooth,
Blue prints I call,
Be my friend in next world.