The World According To C
Whilst waiting for me to finish his story, C wrote some poetry.
His poetry is below.
Clocks
See how they gloat up there on the walls,
and smirk up on towers above us in town.
Time For Bed
The hour grows late I sit stubborn and somnolent,
it is time that decent folk took to their beds.
The Scent Of One On Another
I just smelt the scent of one on another,
not quite the same but nearly itself.
I Have A Stick
The world is a god with power beyond measure,
and cares not a bit for those on its crust,
To Those Who Drag Their Chairs
To those who pierce the quiet with noise and with shouting.
Who with all of their might and for motives unknown,