My heart was broken into pieces as if my cup runneth over, overflowing pitches…
My memory tattoed, I refuse to be marked with ink as I show the world these stitches. Refusing to turn into a dog, aloof are theses walls; they have ears and that is why I’m pissing on these snitches.
Being just a hound, not white nor black but more like grey, I refused to call life and death bitches. Poet and Potter, spotted as I smoke these lyrics and verses, stanzas of great pieces.
© Christian Koumtog