I’m a monster of the rock.
I rattle then I roll.
I can’t sleep, this afflictions for whom my bell tolls.
My tongue is a sword with which I slice and cut.
Spouting filth lies deceit betrayal and smut.
Cooking in my own juices, the cramps on it’s way.
“Only 5 days i think” but it feels here to stay.
over over over I hear “let me clip your dirty wings
I cannot hear these words being spoke.
All I can think is the next toke.
I’m not Jack at the moment, I’m another side.
I cannot catch your eye I just want to hide.
Nothing matters but poppy, she is my first and last.
I cannot prepare for future I cannot recall past.
My skin is greasy my hands are raw.
I have broken trust, your care I tore.
Sorry doesn’t cover what has been done.
All this pain over a couple of bun.
Jack Royle não é o seu típico mau rapaz tatuado, ele também escreve poesia e conhece cada linha para Mean Girls. Obviamente nosso homem ideal …Idade: 23 ,Cidade natal: Plymouth, mas, principalmente, cresceu em Liverpool. Meus hobbies são: Escrever poesia, jogar futebol e de agir. Medo: Eu odeio…
Jack Royle interview for I.D
What a friend you have been.
You were once my darling my beauty my queen.
With fumbling hands I would undress your black or red attire,
envelop me in your sticky haze.
Sometimes colour of tan sometimes dark brown.
Darling Poppy, never a frown when you were around.
But my dear sweet sickly friend.
Our relationship must come to an end.
Too many friends I have lost due to keeping up with your demand.
Dearest Poppy, It’s time I let go of your hand.
Loved ones and friends.
Where sins are forgiven, and all anger ends.
Fathers break backs to raise but a smile.
To see there young ones tear and throw wrapping in a pile.
Drunken merriment, a fist hole in wall.
Hiding the knives, defending mother trying to stand tall.
Such a let down this twisted and torn time of year.
Disappointment, bruises, cuts and spilled beer.
3 months double shifts gone in a day.
Forgotten toil, we sit eat and pray.
Thank you jesus for what you provide.
Not mother nor father their struggle thrown to one side.
Happy birthday gods son. And a happy new year.
A time of sadness loathing, disappointment and fear.
Parents have had to save and penny pinch.
I’m off to watch the Grinch.
Me an Mariana